


A Prince of Thieves

by KuraNova



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe, Eventual Smut, Happy Ending, In case it wasn't obvious Prompto is the thief, M/M, Moderately Paced Burn, Noctis is the rich person, Robin Hood!Prompto, Steal From the Rich and Give to the Poor, Thievery, This might be total trash, but it's MY trash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2018-09-27 15:53:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 28,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10030325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KuraNova/pseuds/KuraNova
Summary: "There are no perfect men in the world; only perfect intentions" - AzeemPrompto, a burgeoning thief, decides to break into the Citadel one night. Unfortunately for him, he steals something of great value to Noctis, who will stop at nothing to get it back.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again everyone! I have a new story for you! I've been dying to get started on this puppy for a while now, as I think Prompto would make a fantastic Robin Hood figure. <3 I look forward to seeing what you all think of this, and hope you're down for going on another journey with me. ;)
> 
> Please note the maturity tag, everyone. If you aren't 18, this fic will contain adult content. Make a good decision for yourself.  
> This fic will also contain descriptions of poverty, hunger, and genuine civil unrest.  
> Read at your own discretion, peeps.

The gold was definitely real, that much was obvious. Must've been high quality too since it was soft enough to dent with just the slightest pressure from his pick. It would have been way easier to use nitric acid, of course, but he wasn't about to go cartin' that around on a heist. He was a thief, not a jeweler. All of the fancy appraisal shit he would leave to Nicodemus.

With a graceful flick of his wrist he plucked the bangle off of its display and dropped it into the pouch that rest against his chest before moving onto the another display. Pulling on the thick nylon rope anchoring him to the ceiling, he managed enough pressure on the pulley above to raise him up for a better look at the next item on his list.

It was a gorgeous tiara, belonging to the late Queen only referred to as "The Just", according to the plaque below the inch-thick, bullet-proof glass. He snorted in amusement. Just? He didn't think so. Granted, he didn't know the lady personally, but everything he learned in public school about the kings and queens of Lucis really hadn't impressed him much. They all seemed too concerned with broader problems than those occurring right beneath their feet. It was no different now, either. The only thing King Regis had ever done for his people was allow them to seek refuge within Insomnia's walls from the daemon and MT infested regions of Lucis.

No further aid for those refugees had been forthcoming, of course. They had been let inside the city, and to many people gliding around comfortably in the upper echelons of Lucian society, that was more than enough. Didn't any of those arrogant bastards understand what it was like to lose your home to the quick flash of a Niflheim-issued flamethrower, or to see your friends and family corrupted by the Scourge and descend into madness before becoming daemons?

He made a disgusted noise die in the back of his throat - still had to keep it down - and got to work.

The shape he'd managed to carve into the glass case surrounding the tiara came loose with a hollow pop. He tucked it away as well, unwilling to leave more evidence behind than he had to. Hopefully, in the morning, he would leave just enough of a mark to ensure the authorities would know exactly who had pilfered the Ancient Lucian Kings Exhibit.

Branding was everything nowadays. And he'd made quite the impression since he'd begun to rob the homes and businesses of only the most affluent Lucian citizens. They would hear his message eventually, he assured himself.

The Silver Thief was only going to get louder.

* * *

 

"Holy shit, Prompto! How'd you manage to get this beauty!"

Prompto raised both pale brows in an unimpressed reply, and Nicodemus waved his sarcasm off before he could even consider it. The jeweler, his fence, was far too busy fondling the tiara between the tips of his fingers to care about Prompto's mood.

"I mean, I know _how_ , but the room this was in had at least a hundred heat sensors. Did you shut them down?"

"Nah, that would have taken too long."

Nicodemus frowned, cocking his head curiously. "Then what?"

"Do you remember that hard plastic suit Mimi made for getting past the police barricade last summer? The one that looks like Crownsguard?"

"No way they just let you in," Nicodemus huffed, incredulous.

Prompto shook his head. "I just used the basic parts. Stuck the pieces in the snow outside until they froze, put em on after damn near freezing _myself_ and got in through the rooftop emergency exit. Walked right through the first few sensors, then had to use a pulley system to hover over the others, but it bought me enough time. I would have grabbed more loot if I hadn't started dripping water all over the place."

Nicodemus shrugged, nodded, and seemed at least a little impressed by Prompto's ingenuity. "Well, you got more than enough for…what are you funding this time?"

"After school building for the kids in the low district. My parents have a foundation for it, so I figured I'd just anonymously make a very generous donation." Prompto yawned and leaned back in Nicodemus' office chair to prop his feet up on the desk.

Nicodemus shook his head again. "Man, you're something else. Dunno what the people in that district think of you, but they owe you all the same."

Prompto sighed. Nobody owed him anything.

Truth was, Prompto had come from the low district, the slums, as they were usually referred. He had been fortunate enough to get adopted by a couple, well-off, who had wanted a child of their own. They'd never told him about how he'd come into their lives, and he had no idea he was adopted until his mother had told him the story on his 13th birthday.

He appreciated the gesture, but he always wished she'd told him sooner, because he changed that day.

Realizing his origins, Prompto became more aware of just how fortunate he had been to escape a life he wouldn't wish on anyone. He'd felt a measure of disdain for the poor before then. He wasn't mean to beggars he would pass on the street, but they had made him uncomfortable. He supposed that was sort of normal for a kid, but when he discovered he had been just one step away from living the same life, he'd made a concerted effort to _pay attention_.

His philanthropic streak only widened as he got older. After getting his first job, he would give what he could from his paycheck to buy food for the homeless he passed on his walk from home to school, then back again. He stopped to talk to people more often and learn just a little more about them than their outward appearance might suggest.

When his desire to help outgrew his paycheck, however, he was fired. Not for stealing, exactly. He had worked at a local food stop, night shifts, and for a while he had taken all of the leftovers from the day to those in the slums who needed a bite to eat before they could sleep.

He hadn't realized before then that hunger, the pain of it, made it difficult to rest comfortably.

Regardless, his boss eventually discovered what he'd been doing, and he was "let go" for endangering the company. Something about health code laws.

Prompto figured if lawyers and businessmen had enough time and money to pass legislation about giving starving people food from a kitchen clean enough to feed people who could pay for it, they probably could afford to just buy a burger for every starving man, woman, and child in Lucis.

It was the dumbest thing he'd ever experienced.

And that was about the time he'd started just saying 'fuck it' to the high fliers and just took what he needed to help the less fortunate.

It wasn't like he hurt anyone.

"Did you hear this next wave of refugees is living near the spillway?" Nicodemus asked.

"The spillway? I don't remember there being any shelter there." Prompto hummed, fiddling idly with his wristband.

"Exactly. Well, there are cardboard boxes, but you know how well those hold up in the winter."

Prompto sat up straight, sliding his boots off the desk and back onto the floor. "And the Crown is just happy to let them get sick and die out there? It's not even dry!"

Nicodemus shrugged, but not as if he was disregarding the shittiness of that situation. "Guess there's no more room anywhere else."

That was bullshit and Prompto knew it. There was an entire apartment building down the street from his house that was almost completely empty because the rent was so steep. Too bad people were too greedy to think of turning it into a home for those who needed a roof over their heads - who would die otherwise. Who did die. Too often. That the Crown could just turn a blind eye… .

"Well, now I know how I'm planning my next heist."

Nicodemus eyed Prompto carefully. "Better not be thinking what I think you're thinking."

"Probably am," Prompto replied with a cheeky smirk as he shoved himself to his feet. If the Crown could afford to ignore the problem, then the Crown could damn well afford to pay.

"Then you're not thinking." Nicodemus said this without much heat. It wasn't his concern what Prompto got up to so long as he made a killing in whatever underground markets he was a part of. He flipped through a wad of cash he pulled from his stained apron and removed several bills.

Prompto walked over and recounted the amount, just to be sure, before tucking them away inside his jacket. "Well I'm in luck, cause no one has ever accused me of being a very deep thinker."

* * *

 

Well … things _could_ definitely be worse, though Prompto wasn't really sure _how._

He'd been distracted, too easily, as he made his way through the royal apartments of the Citadel. Most of them were empty, though that wasn't a surprise. The King didn't exactly have a big family, and his kid spent more time away from home than in it. Prompto knew the guy, Noctis. He might have also had a crush on him once back when they were in school, before Prompto had decided that a private education was a waste of money better spent on someone who actually needed it.

The item that had caught his eye was small and easy to miss, but the shape of it drew Prompto as well as the odd - what would he call it - atmosphere that surrounded it. It was a blueish-purple color, shaped a little like a cat, and he'd founding on a nightstand in what he had identified as the Prince's bedroom. When he picked it up, a spark of electricity skittered through his fingers and up his arm. It had surprised him, and he'd dropped the damn thing onto the tile floor.

It had made a horribly loud noise when it hit and slid across the floor. He froze in place, straining to hear outside the room. That's when he had heard the series of footsteps rushing toward the door.

He had snatched the figurine up off the floor and made a beeline for the window - the one he'd just come in through.

Might as well have a souvenir for his trouble.

Now, he was hanging by his fucking fingertips on a ledge adjacent to that window, listening to someone called Cor yell into a phone about security while another person sounded like they were shuffling around.

Prompto almost felt sorry for whoever was on the other end of that phone call. Cor sounded like a pretty intense dude.

"Are you sure nothing is missing?" Cor barked, this time sounding like he was talking to the other person with him.

"Nothing, sir. It's possible his highness just left the window open."

Cor snorted disbelievingly at this, but eventually he seemed to feel satisfied enough to leave the room.

Prompto sighed in relief, and felt safe enough to climb further down the side of the tower back toward his starting point. The Citadel was probably on high alert now, and he wasn't about to take any stupid chances.

His progress was noisier than he would have liked, but eventually he reached the second open window. Prompto quickly peered inside and, seeing no one, swung through the opening and into the kitchen stock room. He settled back on his heels, taking a minute to catch his breath as well as listen for any movement outside the closed door.

No sound. That was positive, and just what he needed.

He turned quickly to silently close the window he'd come through and then crept toward the door. He listened once more against it, then at the silence turned the handle and slipped outside. The hallway was dark as it was way past the time when servants would still be awake, and Prompto took a second to get his bearings before hurrying down the empty corridor.

He'd have to find another time to come back and finish the job, he mused. The politicians inside the Citadel needed to take care of their citizens, even the most basic assistance would do. Perhaps he could aim a little lower. Of course, he'd anticipated the royal apartments to have more expensive loot and that they would be heavily guarded, but he had not counted on just how hyper-aware the guardspeople could be.

But since he was alive and uncaptured, he'd simply take that silver lining and turn it into a needed learning experience. He hadn't been doing this long, but he was good at it, and maybe this time he had allowed his confidence to reach a little further than was warranted.

He wouldn't make the same mistake next time.

In the darkness he spotted the hazy outline of the bright green exit sign and rushed toward it. He just needed to get outside and across the gardens, then he'd be home free.

No sweat!

He hadn't accounted for anyone to open the door before he could reach it. No one should have been anywhere near this service hall. And yet, he had to deal with this somehow.

A million different options shot through his mind. He could run and try to find another exit, or he could rush the person and shove past them regardless of the uproar it would cause. He might also be able to play this a little more carefully.

Acting quickly in the cover of darkness, Prompto tore off the bandanna hiding his face and tied it to his arm. At the same time he shrugged out of his jacket, unhooked his loot pouch from his chest and folded it inside of the jacket. He thought it was sufficiently hidden, and the rest of his clothing didn't seem at all suspicious.

Last minute, he shoved a hand through his hair to tame it before the hall lights clicked on and exposed him.

He damn near jumped, of course, when he was suddenly face to face with the Prince of Lucis. Noctis seemed surprised too, though Prompto was thankful there was not a hint of recognition in his eyes.

Small mercies.

"Your Highness." Prompto dropped into a bow, another measure to momentarily obscure his face.

"Oh, uh, yeah."

When Prompto righted himself, he could see the indecision on Noctis' face. No, more discomfort. Was he bothered interacting with a servant - even a fake one?

"Come, Noct, let us be done with this night already. You must rise early tomorrow, after all." A man appeared behind the prince, tall, well dressed, and wearing a sharp pair of specs.

Prompto had no time to make small talk, though. The less time he spent here, with them, the better.

Quickly, perhaps rudely, Prompto began to walk toward Noctis. "If you'll excuse me."

"Oh!" Noctis quickly moved out of the way. "Of course."

Prompto brushed past both the prince and the man in the doorway, and turned a cheeky smile on the prince once he was outside. "Have a pleasant night, Your Highness."

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis meets the Silver Thief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait, everyone! I've been sitting on this chapter for a while, but I really can't look at it anymore. This was a tough one to crank out for some reason. As it is, I'm sorry for any mistakes that might jump out at you while reading. I really hope you enjoy regardless! 
> 
> I also just want to take a minute to thank EVERYONE for your amazing comments and the love you've shown this fic. It means so much to me, and I appreciate everything you all have done to support me and the story. <3

It was gone.

It had been a long time since Noctis had looked under his bed, but now he was tearing through loose paper, socks he'd thought he'd lost, and a whole family of dust bunnies. He thought it might have fallen from his bedside table and landed beneath there somewhere, but no matter how thoroughly he looked Carbuncle was still nowhere to be found.

"It _would_ help a great deal if you could actually tell us what is missing," Ignis stated plainly.

Noctis popped his head up from beneath the bed, thick bits of dust flying from his hair. He could almost see the tightening at the corners of Ignis' eyes from all the way across the room - a look of irritation - likely at the state of Noctis' appearance. A bit more than disheveled, he was filthy.

"Carbuncle. Carbuncle is missing." He scrunched his nose in reply at Ignis' seeming indifference. Didn't he understand how important that statuette was to him? Well, more than a statuette really. Carbuncle was his protector.

Cor stood just inside the doorway, near enough to Ignis that he was clearly insinuating himself into this conversation, and yet far enough away to remain respectful of Noctis' space. He hummed from the doorway. It was a gruff sort of sound Noctis had grown up hearing whenever he'd been caught trying to be evasive about … well, anything.

"That's the statuette your dad gave to you when you were a kid, right? When you were sick?"

Cor's question drummed up a whole slew of feelings within Noctis about that scary, uncertain time in his life. A time when he felt certain he was never going to walk again, and when his presence in Tenebrae had cost a dear friend her home and her family.

He still felt guilty about that. All the time.

"Yeah. That's the one," Noctis replied.

Cor nodded, as no nonsense as ever, and turned to say something to one of the Crownsguard outside the room. He and Ignis had been told that someone had breached the Citadel's security, but no one had seen the intruder. The Crownsguard had, however, found evidence of his presence down in the kitchens. He'd gone through a lot of trouble to get into the apartment level of the Citadel undetected. Given all that, Noctis was even more confused as to why the thief would have taken Carbuncle of all things and not something much more fiscally valuable.

The mention of the kitchens had caused Noctis to think back on that guy he and Ignis had run into. Noctis certainly hadn't recognized him. Could he have been the thief?

"Any leads?" Noctis asked, pushing himself up from the floor and walking over toward the doorway.

Ignis seemed to still be scanning the room, probably trying to discern anything else that might be out of place. Or the more likely alternative, fixated on the dusty mess Noctis had made of his bed.

Cor shook his head this time. "Nothing solid. Monica is looking into a possible connection between this incident and a recent robbery of the local history museum."

Noctis was a little incredulous. "A connection between the Citadel and a history museum? I don't get it."

"The idea is that whoever committed the crimes has a bone to pick with the royal family. If they wanted straight cash, they could've pried the gilding off the fence outside. Instead they seem to want to make a statement."

Noctis took a moment to let that sink in. A statement to make - against him and his dad? He had a sneaking suspicion it was more outrage against the cession of Lucian territory outside of Insomnia. There had been regular protests about that for months now. But what on Eos would _stealing_ from the Caelums do to solve that political cluster?

Even so, he needed to get his friend back. "We need to find Carbuncle."

Cor nodded again. "We will certainly try, Your Highness."

"Nothing else is missing?" Ignis asked, moving to stand beside Noctis.

"The King and Clarus will go over everything when they get back from town to make sure, but nothing else seems to have been touched."

"At least there's that," Noctis mumbled.

It was at a week before Noctis had overheard anything further about the theft and Carbuncle's possible whereabouts. He suspected Cor had known long before, but had neglected to tell Noctis in an effort to keep him out of trouble. A solid plan. If Noctis hadn't been actively listening for any news, he might have missed eavesdropping on a conversation just outside one of the Crownsguard break rooms. As it was, Noctis had discovered that the Crownsguard officials in charge of the investigation were certain the person who had broken into the history museum was the same that had taken Carbuncle.

The Silver Thief, or something like that. Noctis thought that was the dumbest moniker he'd ever heard, but he supposed thieves didn't really care what they were called in the end. They weren't making money off of their titles.

Fortunately for Noctis having a name to go off of made it easy to research. He pored over articles, scouring witness testimony, police reports, and descriptions of the thief. The more he read, the more sure he was that the man he'd come face to face with in the servant corridor was, in fact, The Silver Thief. He had to find him, and everything he'd read directed him toward the poorer areas of the city so that's where he would go.

He thought about asking Ignis to go with him, being unfamiliar with the area as he was, but almost immediately after the thought had entered his mind he imagined the scandalized tone of Ignis' voice and the line of "just let the Crownsguard do their job, Noct" ringing around in his head.

No, Noctis had to do this himself and he had to do it quickly before Carbuncle was sold off to ... who knew where. To anyone who didn't know any better, who wasn't related by blood to a Lucian king, Carbuncle only looked like a small trinket. The statuette, however, housed a powerful magical being that had tread Noctis' dreams with him since he was a boy. Apparently, by his father's own account, Carbuncle was also a gifted healer. Noctis supposed that's why his father had given Carbuncle to him after his accident.

Regardless, he needed to get going. Who knew what his friend was going through right this very minute.

* * *

"What the hell!"

Prompto scrambled backward on his bed, tugging his blanket up under his chin as he gazed at the little creature at the end of the mattress. He'd awoken to something tickling his feet, and when he'd roused enough to look, he had come face to face with ... whatever the heck this cat-rabbit-dog thing was.

Had he left a window open?

"Good, uh, whatever you are. Rabbit ... thing. You just stay riiight there."

Gingerly, Prompto pulled his knees up to his chest, getting his feet as far away from it as possible. The tiny, furry, and, admittedly, adorable creature standing in front of Prompto sat back on its haunches. It appeared completely harmless, but Prompto had seen just enough horror films to color his judgement on the matter. And this was just too weird.

A beat later, he heard his phone vibrate on his nightstand. Carefully, he reached over to grab for it, not taking his eyes off the little fur ball for a minute except to glance down at the screen. Did animal control come to people's houses at the ass crack of dawn?

'Hello!' The text read. It was in a new conversation, the number it was coming from was unlisted in his contacts. Before he could look away another message popped onto the display.

'I'm Carbuncle.'

Then another.

'You did ask.'

Slowly, Prompto lifted his gaze to the dog-rabbit-cat. Was he high? Did he have a fever or something and took the really good cold meds before bed and just not remember?

He began to type a response to the unknown number, his fingers clumsy, when yet another message arrived.

'You don't have to type back. You can just talk. I do have ears.'

To emphasize the point, the cat-dog-rabbit flicked one massive ear toward Prompto's bedroom door.

It was then, Prompto realized, that if he wasn't high, he was drunk, and if he wasn't drunk, he'd gone absolutely bat-shit insane.

"Right," Prompto spoke slowly. "Ah, what-." He cleared his throat. "What exactly is a carbuncle?"

'Me'

Oookaaay. "But what are you?"

'Carbuncle'

The rabbit-cat-whatever cocked its head at him, as if he was the weirdo in the room.

'I walk in dreams,' it elaborated. 'I'm surprised you even can dream. Niflheim has really come a long way.'

The hell? So he was dreaming. That made a weird sort of sense, he guessed.

"What do you mean?"

'You're a machine. Machines don't dream, as you know.'

Well, he was officially undreaming himself. Not about to listen to a ... whatever call him a robot, Prompto tossed his phone back onto the bedside table and pulled the covers back over his head. With any luck he'd wake up in the morning and laugh about this.

His phone buzzed a few more times before he settled into a restless sleep.

* * *

Noctis shrugged his jacket up over his shoulders and weaved his way through all of the people milling around on the over-crowded sidewalk. He'd never been to this part of the city before, having always been regulated to the cleaner, disparate areas full of people, he was realizing, more closely associated with his social class. He'd grown up there. He was familiar with it.

He supposed a lack of that familiarity had a lot to do with how uneasy he felt now. Noctis didn't recognize this place, or the faces around him. There were no well-known landmarks to guide him.

It was just as well, he supposed. He didn't know _exactly_ where the thief was hiding, so keeping an eye out for the man he'd seen in the corridor that night was the next best thing. He thought that maybe wandering into any pawn shops in the area would be a good idea too, if the thief had already managed to sell Carbuncle off.

A Noctis walked, the streets turned into grimy troughs of yesterday's rainwater and whatever had run off from the thoroughfares above. The pavement had long since broken up and crumbled away, leaving an uneven surface suited better to foot traffic than a car. The people here, in a way, looked a little broken up too.

Noctis stopped a moment to look around, taking in the sights, the smells and the _people_ . They stared at him, in a way that made him feel as though they knew _exactly_ who he was despite his dressing in normal clothes. The looks were curious mostly, some of them seemed a little disbelieving, but it was the ones - the angry glares - that began to make him feel uncomfortable.

Feeling genuinely out of place, Noctis began to walk again, this time paying far more attention to the people around him that he was used to. Even in his street clothes, he realized, he was overdressed. One woman’s shoes had holes worn into the toes, and her sweater was threadbare and damp. A man slumped over against the side of a building had rips in the knees of his slacks that seemed several sizes too large for his slim body. At first it seemed like a caricature of homelessness, an image he was often exposed to in movies but rarely saw in person. Now, in front of him, it was suddenly _very_ real. It was less of a nebulous thing he could remove himself from if the mood struck him. Perhaps the thing that bothered him the most were the children. They played in the middle of the road with bare feet, using sticks and rocks as toys as they splashed in the mud. Sure, at least they were having fun, but Noctis wondered at how _safe_ it really was, and _why_ none of them seemed to be in school.

People _lived_ like this. Actually _lived_ like this, and Noctis wondered at the lack of … well, _presence_. Where were the community supports here? He’d seen them in the areas of town he frequented. Why not in this place?

He wandered a little further down the sidewalk, more of a dirt path really, and pulled up short.

A flash of blonde hair and a quick laugh drew his eye down the street where he spied the thief. He was _sure_ it was him!

“Hey!” Noctis called out, unthinking, and surged into a run to reach the man before he could lose sight of him. He shoved past a man walking toward him who cried out and stumbled, then vaulted over a shopping cart and overturned its contents in his rush.

The thief’s head jerked up, his blue eyes darting around at the commotion. His gaze landed on Noctis, and the prince could see him mouth some sort of expletive before he ducked out of sight.

“ _Shit!_ ” He couldn’t come this far just to lose him in this sea of people!

Noctis followed him for an agonizing distance. His thighs were screaming with the effort, but he pressed on. Finally, there was a moment the street ahead cleared, and he had a straight shot at the man. He gathered his magic about him like a cloak and warped. Noctis collided with the thief mid-stride, taking them both to the ground.

Gladio would have been proud of him for remembering how to restrain someone in the heat of the moment, he thought as he leaned all of his weight into his hips and shoulders. He had the thief pinned, sitting on top of his stomach while his palms were flattened firmly on the man’s shoulders.

“Get the heck off, dude!”

“The hell I will!” Noctis growled in reply. “Give Carbuncle back!”

“I don’t know what you mean! Are you crazy or something? You can’t just tackle a guy walking down the street.”

The thief was quick to mask it, but Noctis could immediately see the recognition on his face. This guy knew _exactly_ what he was talking about.

“Bullshit. You ran away the minute you recognized me.”

"You were _charging_ me, dude!"

"Look, all I want back is Carbuncle. The fact that you're some vigilante thie- mmph!"

The thief had surged forward, knocking Noctis off balance and shoving his hands over his mouth before Noct had the chance to say anything further.

"Keep your freaking voice down!" he hissed, blue eyes sparking angrily.

Noctis glared back, insistent.

The thief made a show of looking around, drawing Noctis' attention to the _scene_ they were making. Slowly, he removed his hands. "Get off me, and I'll talk."

"What, so you can run away?" Noctis asked, incredulous.

"No, so you can stop drawing so much attention to us, _Your Highness_ ," he replied through his teeth.

"If you _do_ try and run, I can warp after you."

"Yeah, and my and everyone else on the freaking block knows it too. Get _off_!"

Eyeing him one more time, Noctis grumbled to himself before rising to his feet. The thief was on his faster than Noctis could blink, and the man hesitated for a moment before he gestured for Noctis to follow him.

"Not leading me into a back alley to kill me, are you?" Noctis murmured, trying to keep his eye on the thief while also trying to stay aware of his surroundings. How the hell did Gladio and Ignis do this?

"Nah. Murder isn't my thing. I don't have the stomach for it."

"Right."

Finally, they reached a secluded, out of the way location in which to talk. It was still public, which relieved Noctis to a degree. "So, Carbuncle. Give him back."

"Wow. Real imperious there. You ever ask nicely for anything a day in your life, highness?"

Noctis snorted. "Look, I don't know what your problem is with my family, but-"

"My _problem_ with your family is that your heads are so far up your asses you're more worried about a dumb, worthless statue than pretty much everything else going on around you. Did you even take a look around when you waltzed down here dressed like a rich kid, or were you so uncomfortable with _poverty_ you had to stare at your shoes coming down the sidewalk?"

"Of course I noticed-!"

"And you're still more concerned with a little cat-rabbit-whatever the hell Carbuncle is? More than the human lives around you?"

Noctis was overwhelmed. Whatever he had expected this morning when he'd snuck out of the citadel, he'd never imagined getting chewed out by a thief in broad daylight over the struggles of the disadvantaged. "I've never even _seen_ this place before! I'm hardly even allowed to go outside the citadel by myself. Shit, look, Carbuncle is my _friend_ . He's important to me." And he probably sounded real crazy right about now, but when he looked at the man in front of him, he seemed to believe every word Noctis was saying, even if he didn't look particularly happy about it. "I've had him since I was a kid, after I almost died and he-" Hell, he couldn't finish. He was never really one for words, but he was _upset_ and _frustrated_ and he wasn't _lying_ about Carbuncle being important to him.

The thief rocked back on a heel, staring at Noct with an intelligent, piercing gaze. A multitude of thoughts seemed to swirl behind his eyes, notions Noct couldn't even begin to guess at. "Do you know _why_ I steal things?"

Noctis snorted, but shook his head. "No one knows why. It's not like you give interviews in the newspaper."

The thief barked a laugh. "Yeah, guess you're right." He ran a hand through his blonde hair a moment. "I steal to help these people." He jerked his chin to gesture to their surroundings. "They're refugees of your Father's war. They come into Insomnia with nowhere to go, and so they come here, most with nothing but the clothes on their backs. Everything they owned has been taken over by the Empire." He paused, casting another searching look in Noctis' direction. Noctis couldn't help but feel he was being measured somehow, weighed by his demeanor and sincerity. "But I can see Carbuncle really means a lot to you, so I'll tell you what: to offset the amount of money I would have got from selling him, you help me fix this place up." He raised his eyes upward, seeming to think rather hard about something. "One hundred hours. One hour for every gil that thing is probably worth."

"One hundred-! How?!" Noctis balked. One hundred hours of what? Volunteer work? Manual labor?

"Your time or your buddy, dude. It's your choice. I can definitely think of a few ways you can make use of yourself out here with us plebs."

"What makes you think I wont just go tell my dad's people who you are?"

The thief chuckled to himself, not seeming perturbed in the least by Noctis' flimsy threat. "You don't seem like the type to snitch, but even if you were, I'd sell that statue so fast you wouldn't have a chance to track it. You also don't know a thing about me - not even my name."

Damn. He had Noctis there. All in all, though, the offer didn't seem so bad. "And if I help, I'll get Carbuncle back?"

He nodded. "Yep. On the fifty-ninth minute of your ninety-ninth hour. I'll let a minute slide."

"Gee, thanks," Noctis grumbled.

"We have a deal?" The man reached out, offering to shake on the agreement.

Noctis only had to take a moment before he reached out and took his hand.

  



	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis is humbled, so is Prompto, and our little thief has made a very big oversight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter? Heck!  
> Once again, thanks for all of the support, fam! <3 you all! Your hilarious comments make. My. Day.

In the end, he'd let Noctis go. It was probably the most stupid thing Prompto had ever done in his life, but it wasn't like he could really keep a prince hostage or anything - not without causing a whole hell of a lot of trouble. Besides, kidnapping? Also not his thing.

Prompto wasn't a criminal for his own sake. He didn't profit from the things he stole, unless a person counted being satisfied with himself a type of payment, and he never  _ ever _ hurt anyone he came across during his jobs. But he still didn't understand why he had been so easy on the prince. The guy at least deserved a bigger rant than the one he had given. Heck, he'd imagined having the chance to tell a member of the royal family exactly where they could stick all of their gold inlaid candlesticks.

Well, he had a perfect opportunity and he didn't take it.

Prompto jogged up the steps to the entry of his house, twisted the key in the lock and shoved the door open. It was a wet, miserable day outside despite the meagre sunlight, and the house was silent as he slipped inside. The usual, he supposed, which was just as well. He had work to do.

Thinking back on his encounter with Noctis, Prompto supposed his inaction had something to do with that weird, helpless look the prince had going for him. He looked a little like a lost puppy, really. Initially, when Prompto had seen the fear in the prince’s expression, the trepidation he experienced while being around the refugees, he'd been upset - angry even. But when he took a moment to stop pretending he was the only person who gave a shit about anyone, he realized he was being a real prick to the guy.

Truth was, he didn't know anything about Noctis other than what he'd seen on the news and read in tabloids. His perception was, in all actuality, probably entirely wrong. Just standing there in the middle of the slums speaking with Noctis was a learning experience for Prompto. The prince's stupidly  _ blue _ eyes were nervous, but clear and honest. Prompto guessed he wasn't really expecting that from a kid he'd somehow learned to resent. It wasn't as if Noctis was free to roam around the city. Everything he was exposed to was probably monitored and scripted. At least as an adult, despite being cagey around people who were different from him, he was brave enough, and dumb enough, to wander into the slums without an escort and at least expose himself to different situations. Granted, he'd done it expecting to get the weird cat-rabbit thing back, but even just doing it himself rather than relying on someone to do it for him had merit.

Prompto made it to his computer and turned it on, letting it boot up while he wandered into the kitchen to get himself a glass of water and a small apple.

Noctis seemed like an alright guy, but that didn't change the fact that his dad was willfully ignorant of the plight of his own people, though. Still, Prompto was rather impressed. He hoped Noctis would keep his word and raise his estimation of the royal family.

He sat down with a thump in one of the dining room chairs and set his laptop in front of him. Leaning forward on his elbows, he bit into his apple and began to browse through his tabs.

_ Lucian Crownsguard relics, Old War relics, Crownsguard rank medals _

Prompto quickly scanned the pages he pulled up in his searches, keen on finding something tangible he could pilfer from the King and his men. The medals gifted to members of the Crownsguard, he'd heard, were made of titanium. It was a pretty expensive metal nowadays, and he figured he could squeeze a few gil out of a new one, but a heck of a lot more out of something made before the Old War had ended.

His recent excursion to the Citadel had provided him with the opportunity to become familiar with the buildings that housed the Crownsguard as well. He'd still have to get up close and personal - really comb the place over - but he suspected he already knew the place he'd have to hit.

He couldn't stop what he was doing just because the freaking  _ prince _ had barreled into his life like a damn freight train.

* * *

 

"Have you ever been to the slums?" Noctis asked, uncharacteristically the first to initiate conversation at the dinner table.

Regis glanced up over the rim of his wineglass, curious. "Is that where you ran off to today?" The low light from the chandelier overhead glinted off of the ring on his father's hand.

Noctis flushed at how easily he’d been found out, and almost lapsed into silence to let the subject drop. But he hesitated. So what if he’d gone to a rougher part of the city? His father was the King of Lucis which was, largely, contained within Insomnia, and if he expected Noctis to take over the job one day, wouldn’t he, at the very least, want him to be informed? And it wasn’t like he had been alone. Clearly His father had  _ someone _ watching him from the shadows. 

Noctis was only thankful that whomever it was had deigned to leave out his little lapse in princely behavior.

He was fairly certain tackling Crown citizens to the ground was neither an official nor widely accepted response to take for a future king - even if he was trying to catch a thief. There was bound to be a rule somewhere. Ignis would know.

“Yeah. I met a friend there today,” he lied. 

Regis’ eyes narrowed, as if he could somehow sense Noctis’ aura of bullshit from across the table. He didn’t give himself away, however, or out Noctis immediately. “Really? What business did the two of you have there?”

Better stick as close to the truth as possible, Noctis thought. “He wanted me to see where the refugees from Cleigne and Duscae have set up,” he paused, then pressed a little further. “I guess he’s been volunteering out there for a few months and-.” Noctis rolled his lips together, unsure of exactly how he might spin this half-truth to his advantage while not outing himself or the thief. For Carbuncle’s sake.

This had nothing to do with the acute shame he’d felt when the thief had called him out on his lack of action, he told himself. Nothing at all.

“He said he wanted me to see their living conditions so I might ask you to see about helping them.” Noctis finished, phrasing the sentence like a question because he wasn’t entirely sure how his father would react, or if he would call his lie and tell him he didn’t have any friends besides Ignis and Gladio since he’d graduated high school.

Regis set his glass down and considered Noctis for a long moment. “Well,” he said evenly, the tone of his voice not giving his thoughts away, “tell me about your visit.”

Oh shit.

He hadn’t thought this far ahead.

Quickly, impressing even himself, Noctis told his father about his day in the slums. He was candid about the things he’d seen, seeing no reason to exaggerate the state of that part of the city, and also wanted his father to take an interest. Noctis was, he discovered, concerned about the people who lived there. Maybe he wasn’t as invested in their plight as the thief was, but it wasn’t like he didn’t have a heart.

He could see that things were bad. Very bad. 

And all Crown citizens were, even indirectly, his responsibility. 

Noctis’ father listened to his story, mulling over the details Noctis had presented to him with an air of consideration as he finished his dinner. Finally, some time later, he hummed with decision as he picked up the thread of their earlier conversation.

“Since you seem so interested in the well being of our citizens, Noctis, why don’t I let you handle the issues you’ve brought to me. It’ll be good practice, I think, and since you have help in your friend I can see this being a beneficial form of public outreach.”

Public outreach, Noctis balked. That meant reporters and questions and  _ cameras _ . He hated the intrusiveness of those people, willing to say and do anything for a story. They were present for nearly every major event in his life, and he could safely say he’d rather they all went and bothered  _ someone else _ . 

“Are you actually going to notify the press?” Noctis asked, tentatively.

Regis gave him a long, meaningful look. “No, but I won’t stop them if they get wind of what you’re doing. If I’m going to fund your project, then you will deal with the results, Noctis. Just like I must when I make decisions.”

Noctis ducked his head in a nod. “Right.”

“I wouldn’t get too panicked.” Regis smiled at Noctis’ obvious discomfort, but it wasn’t a meanly meant gesture. 

In fact, Noctis thought, his father looked about thirty seconds away from launching into some heartfelt speech about how  _ proud _ he was of him for taking an interest in any aspect of rulership. He felt the shame from earlier rise up again as he realized it took losing something he cared about to get him to pay  _ attention _ to the world around him.

Some king he was shaping up to be.

 

* * *

 

 

It was several days later, after they’d first met, that Prompto found the prince again. He was wandering aimlessly through one of Insomnia’s many night markets looking for all the world like just an ordinary guy taking in the sights. Prompto would have thought it was a little endearing, if anything had been done about the situation in the slums. 

As it was, every day that went by without aid was another day some poor person succumbed to a preventable illness, or worse, the elements. He had planned on just grabbing a quick bite to eat before heading home, but now that the prince was in his sights, he figured it was the perfect opportunity to prod him a little more. People’s lives weren't something he could just take his time with.

Weaving through the crowd, Prompto ducked in and out of the orange lights of paper lanterns and between wisps of smoke wafting away from incense burners. The night market was a buzz of activity, and the aesthetic harkened back to Insomnia’s early days. Or so he had been told. This might have been what the city had smelled and sounded like long before skyscrapers towered above them and neon lights flickered electric color over the heads of its occupants. 

He reached Noctis fairly easily, bumping shoulders only once with a passerby as he made his way to the prince. “Hey!” he called out, slapping a smile onto his face for effect. He didn’t want to make a scene like the last time they’d seen each other. Not that he was really looking to make a scene, but he also wasn’t exactly trying to be buddies with the guy.

The prince jumped, looking half startled out of his damn skin before he recognized Prompto and allowed himself to breathe.

“Shit, sorry,” Prompto quickly apologizing, feeling a little guilty that he’d scared Noctis. “Didn’t figure you for a jumpy guy.”

Noctis took a half-step back and straightened his jacket. “Wasn’t expecting to see anyone I knew here,” he said, then amended, “or was acquainted with.”

“Same,” Prompto quickly agreed, jerking his chin forward to indicate they should keep walking. There was a small crowd forming behind them now, trying to find away around their static bodies in the crush. 

Noctis fell into step beside Prompto. “So, how’s the volunteer work going?”

The prince snorted at the question, apparently finding it amusing that Prompto had decided to label extortion as a form of volunteering. “Sorry, I haven’t been able to think of anything.”

Prompto felt a flash of anger roll through him before he reminded himself to calm down. He was good at reading a situation, and Noctis didn’t really seem all that thrilled about his inaction either. “Sorry isn’t really helping, dude. And time is kind of a big factor.”

Noctis sighed. It was an angry, painful sound that piqued Prompto’s avid curiosity. “I know. I  _ know _ . I just-. I don’t have any experience with philanthropy, and I’ve been given a set amount of funds that I can use but I’m worried that I’ll screw up somehow.”

“You could just donate it to a charity,” Prompto offered. Sure, that wasn’t what he would choose, but he assumed that if Noctis were to put any money into their little agreement it would go straight to a group that would do all of the hard work for him. That’s how most rich people operated, right? His parents did.

Noctis shook his head. “No. I looked into a few of the charities around, and only a couple serve the refugee population within Insomnia. I didn’t want to select those either because they take a percentage of the donation for administrative fees. Shouldn’t the entire amount go to the people that need it?”

Well, Prompto certainly thought so, but people did need paying jobs, too. “Lots of charities work that way nowadays. There’s enough need to go around that needs full time work.”

Noctis nodded. “That makes sense, but I want the whole amount to go to the refugees.” He gestured vaguely above his head, indicating, Prompto assumed, the market. “I came down here to try and find some inspiration.”

Prompto watched Noctis for a long moment and listened to the sincerity in his voice. It hadn’t been the first time he was surprised by the prince’s earnestness. Whatever or whomever Prompto expected Noctis to be, the bright-eyes, nervous, yet refreshingly kind person in front of him wasn’t it. 

Noctis was, Prompto had to admit, trying his best. He just had no idea where to start, and while his thoughtlessness prior to their meeting for the needs of the people who depended on his family still grated on him, Prompto realized that he shouldn’t be looking a gift horse in the mouth. Noctis was ignorant, but that didn’t make him a bad person. He was trying to help  _ now _ and Prompto needed to suck it up and meet him where he was at.

“Well,” Prompto began, a little tentatively, “what did you have in mind?”

“That’s where I’m stuck. I want to do a lot of things that will be good, but I don’t really know what they  _ need _ , you know?” As if struck by an idea, the prince looked at Prompto with an expression that bordered on pleading. “But you do. You have more experience working with them than anyone I’m likely to find at the Citadel. Where do you think I should invest?”

Prompto was a little taken aback. “You trust me to make that decision with you money? After stealing your statue?”

“Carbuncle,” Noctis corrected, “and why shouldn’t I? You obviously care about the refugees, otherwise you wouldn’t have asked me to help you.”

“I didn’t  _ ask _ you. You’re just paying off the value of the statue.”

“Carbuncle.”

“Alright, Carbuncle. Whatever the weird cat-rabbit thing is.”

They walked a little further down the main thoroughfare, and found themselves at the edge of the market on top of an elevated walkway that overlooked the more suburban parts of the city. From up here, they could even see the length of the western wall, and the shimmer of the Lucian Sound just beyond it. 

“So,” Noctis began again,” what do you think? You wanted me involved and I am, but now you have to teach me.”

Prompto chuckled to himself, reaching up to straighten the bangs that had blown into his face from a rogue gust of wind welling up from the streets below. “Guess I do, huh?” Turning his gaze away from the view, he leaned back against the guardrail, hitching his elbows over the sides as he stared at the colorful mosaic of the market. “Well, start small, for one. Dunno how much money your dad lent you, but the small stuff is usually the most important, and people don’t really think about it. You know, access to nutritious food, clean water,  _ shelter _ . That stuff. Guess if I were you, I’d begin by finding a safe place to store food, then find a way to distribute it to everyone. Same with water. The Bottled stuff is great, because then people can take it home and store it easily. It’s also good for a shower in a pinch too. As for shelter, that’s a tough one. There’s not a lot of room right now, and the buildings the people have access to aren't in the best shape.”

Noctis seemed to think a minute, scrubbing his hands over his face in a way Prompto thought was pretty funny - like he was scratching a beard he didn’t have. Maybe he picked it up from his dad.

“What about shipping containers?”

“What about em?” Prompto replied, catching onto Noctis’ train of thought quickly and liking where it was going.

“Well, they’re pretty cheap, as far as shelter goes. If I could get some insulated, they could fit several families inside.” He paused, then flushed and quickly followed up. “I mean, it isn’t a perfect solution, but for the time being it’ll at least get people out of the standing water.”

“It’s a good idea.” Prompto replied, unthinkingly smiling at the prince like he might a friend. “I think you should do it.”

“Yeah?”

“Sure. Everyone’s gotta start somewhere, right?”

 

* * *

 

 

“Is that the one?”

“The blonde kid? Yeah. Been following him since Drautos reported the break in.”

“Doesn’t look like much to me, especially not an MT.”

“Scans don’t lie. Whatever broke into the armory had a metal skeleton. Set off every silent alarm in there.”

“But nothing was stolen?”

“Right. It’s why I’m just following him. Gotta see where he lives and keep tabs on him. We’re talking 24/7 surveillance until the boss tells us what to do.”

“Shouldn’t we grab him now? He’s with Prince Noctis.”

“Not supposed to engage. If he does try to pull something, I’m right here.”

“Who’d have thought? An MT in Insomnia.”

“Those Nifs are getting sneakier every day.”

“You heading back for rotation?”

“Yeah, need something?”

“Pull Gladio aside and tell him to sit on the prince like he’s a chocobo. Just to be safe.”

“Got it. See you tomorrow morning at muster?”

“You know it.”

“For hearth and home.”

“For hearth and home.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis is coming into his own and Prompto has a worrying conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens? The plot thickens >:)  
> Thanks for all of the support, fam! <3

“So your dad’s got you running around on some charity mission, huh? What pile of shit’d you step in to earn that punishment?”

Noctis looked up from his phone, a small frown beginning to knit his brows together. “I didn’t step in anything. I just thought it’d be a good idea.”

Gladio huffed, silently laughing at the prince. “Yeah, and I’m the Oracle. Look, you don’t gotta tell me the specifics, but you can’t blame me for wondering. Drautos has me on your ass from sunup ‘til sundown. Something fishy’s going on here.”

Noctis’ frown deepend. “Drautos? He’s the reason you won't leave me the hell alone?”

Gladio scratched the stubble on his chin, sparing a look around the diner they’d stepped into in hopes of getting a late breakfast. “Yeah. Seems to think you’re in trouble. Weird, though. When I asked him for details, he just said the intel wasn’t any of my business.”

The wheels in Noctis’ mind began turning, wondering at what Gladio had told him. Was it possible the Kingsglaive knew about the thief?

Self-consciously he looked down at his phone. Ten random digits stared back at him. They were meaningless, at a glance, just a regular phone number, but that number was the one Noctis had been using to talk to the thief back and forth over the last several days. Currently, they were pooling their resources into finding a good deal on the shipping containers Noctis was so keen on. The thief had offered to do the legwork, bargaining mostly, since Noctis had absolutely zero experience bartering for anything in his life. 

It was strange, Noctis thought, that he didn’t even know the man’s name. 

“Well, the truth is that I’m working on improving the living conditions of the refugees. With a friend. I hadn’t realized how bad the conditions some people were living in until I saw it myself, and he sort of coaxed me into helping him out.”

“You gotta crush on the guy?” Gladio deadpanned, earnest gaze boring into Noct’s.

The prince flushed, hiding his face by suddenly becoming extremely interested in his menu. “No!”

“Yeah, sure. Anyway, who’s the friend?”

Noctis lowered the menu a fraction, eying gladio over its laminated sheen. “I met him in high school. We never really talked much. This is the first we’ve really hung out.”

“What’s his name?”

_ Fuck _

He scrambled, searching his memory for  _ any _ name he could remember from his school years. “Argentum!” He supplied quickly, and with what he hoped was a convincing air.

As usual, Gladio didn’t buy it.

“ _ Argentum _ ? The hell kinda name is that?”

“It’s his last name.”

“Well what’s his  _ first _ name?”

“I- I don’t remember,” Noctis murmured, wanting to slide under the table and disappear from Gladio’s annoying persistence. 

“You know that makes you kind of a shitty friend, right?” Gladio rumbled, taking a sip of his water.

“Tell me something I don’t know. Look, it’s been years, and I was too embarrassed to ask him.”

The truth was that Noctis had dredged that identity up from a memory so far in the past that he  _ couldn’t _ remember the boy’s first name. He’d liked him well enough, but the other boy seemed so shy, more so than Noctis was. They’d never really spoken after their first meeting when Noctis had accidentally fubar’d the entire friendship business by innocently commenting on the kid’s weight while he was helping him up from a fall. Even after that incident, the boy had followed Noctis around through primary school, though he never directly approached him again. Noctis had wondered, before his injury, if they might ever be friends. Afterward, he’d mostly forgotten him.

Everything but the last name, apparently.

“You know,” Gladio spoke around a mouthful of french fry, jabbing the other half in Noctis’ direction, “you could always just be honest with the kid.”

Noctis snorted. “I’ll take it under advisement.”

“You learn that stuffy one from Iggy?” Gladio asked, wrinkling his nose at the expression.

“Probably. Look, if you’re so curious, then you’ll be happy to know you get to come with me today. We’re meeting him down at the reservoir in an hour.”

 

* * *

 

 

Was this guy  _ shitting _ him? Insomnia hadn’t used a shipping container for legit trade since before the old war, and the gutted husks of metal had sat, rusting in this swindling asshole’s backyard for the last half a damn century. But once there had been an interest in them, of course, suddenly the damn things were worth their two and a half ton weight in gold.

Prompto understood the guy was just trying to make a living, but did his  _ firm _ price have to amount to more than a small car?

Hell no.

It probably didn’t help that prompto was impatient and irate. He hadn’t slept well again last night, no thanks to that stupid cat rabbit thing. He’d been giving it a mean side eye since the first episode, then the second, and now it was shoved firmly into the back of his safe inside of his closet where it  _ hopefully _ wouldn’t be bothering him again. 

“Are you sure you can’t come down to a grand?” Prompto asked, willing himself to sound unhurried. Calm. Not about to tear his hair out.

“Sorry, but five is my limit,” the man said, hands shoved in his pockets and thrusting out his jaw like someone who was well aware they were ripping another off. Stubborn, Prompto read. Like a mule.

Instead of groaning in frustration, Prompto sighed, and took out his phone to message Noctis. This was the last place he’d gone inside Insomnia hoping to get a good deal. If he were to look outside the city, things might be cheaper, but they’d be operating through seedier channels, and Prompto wasn’t sure Noctis, or his dad, or his dad’s accountants, would like that very much.

 

>> Hey, having trouble with the seller. He’s asking an arm and a leg, kinda price you could get a prefab for. 

 

Prompto only had to wait a moment before the prince responded.

<< How much?

>> Too much. 5k.

<< Asking nicely didn’t help?

>> Hasn’t so far. Maybe you could get down here and pull your weight?

 

He realised he was being snarky the moment the message sent. It wasn’t Noctis’ fault the seller was greedy, and Prompto  _ had _ volunteered to do this part.

He was surprised when he heard his phone go off again.

 

<< Be there in a sec. I have cavalry.

 

What was the cavalry, and why was he suddenly worried?

 

* * *

 

 

“Last name’s Argentum,” he reported, speaking into the two-way clipped to his shirt collar. “Heard the prince say it this morning to Amicitia.”

“Got a first name?” the grainy voice on the other end of the line asked.

“Nah, that’s all I could glean. How’s your end?”

“Seneca’s been checking in hourly. Nothing strange yet. Kid just spends a lot of time in the slums.”

“Any plan for him yet?”

“The boss says to monitor him. Not sure what he’s waiting for, but that’s his business.”

“Right. On my way to the reservoir.”

“Seneca’s there too. Don’t give yourselves away.”

“Copy that.”

 

* * *

 

 

“There he is,” Noctis said, looking back over his shoulder at Gladio who had just shrugged on the Crownsguard jacket he’d retrieved from the trunk of his car.

They stood along the apex of a large, grassy hill overlooking what Noctis would have called a junkyard. They’d driven in through a dirt road lined with barbed wire, dust and grime settling on the hood of the car as Gladio murmured his misgivings about the place. 

“Think this’ll work?” he replied.

“I  _ am _ the prince,” Noctis shrugged. “Should count for something, right?”

Gladio snorted. “Yeah well you better start acting like it or the guy won’t give you shit. Just, I dunno, act like your dad or something.”

“Thaaanks”

“This was your idea. I can only be so intimidating.”

Noctis rolled his eyes at the lie. Gladio loved to push people. It was his  _ job _ .

“Alright, well let’s go.”

Noctis thought he did a fine job of striding down the hill, trying to be purposeful and appear as if he knew exactly what he was doing. Taking Gladio’s advice, he tried to emulate his father’s movements. Always slow and deliberate, the king took his time with everything, giving onlookers just enough time to speculate about his next move when he acted. He never appeared indecisive in anything, least of all in public. Now it was Noctis’ turn to try his hand at it.

He hoped he wouldn’t screw it up too bad, but if things were as dicey as the thief had said, and this was their last shot, Noctis was willing to go all in for it to be successful.

“Ah! There you are!” he called. 

To his credit, Gladio didn’t laugh at the sudden dialect change from common to formal Lucian. Noctis was rusty enough at it to be laughable within the citadel, but he didn’t think it’d matter much out here where the only time people must have heard formal speech was from the radio or television.

The thief turned at the sound of his voice, recognition dawning in his eyes as he watched Noctis’ approach. 

“You the guy working with Noct?” Gladio asked before Noctis could intervene, his shield placing himself  _ conveniently _ between him and everyone else. 

The thief nodded, sticking out his hand to shake Gladio’s. “Yeah. Nice to meet you. Name’s Gaius.”

Noctis narrowed his eyes. Gaius? Of all the fake names to pick, why the one that seemed the  _ least _ likely to fit him?

“Gaius Argentum,” Gladio nodded. “Got it. Glad you’re out here helping His  _ Highness _ get his work done.”

Gladio’s comment seemed to alarm the thief for a brief moment, his eyes widening in shock before bouncing back and forth between Noctis and Gladio. “Uh, y-yeah,” he finally said, clearing his throat before moving their collective attention to the dealer. “This is the guy I was telling you about. He has the best quality in stock for what we’re looking for, and his asking price is five thousand gil. What do you think, Your Highness?”

Gladio smirked at the thief, who seemed to relax under their mutual jab at Noctis. The dealer, however, was all platitudes.

“Prince Noctis! How unexpected! I didn’t realize this gentleman worked for you.”

The thief scoffed, albeit quietly, beneath his breath.

“Of course,” Noctis said, leaning heavily on his accent. “It wasn’t my intention to come down here today. I wanted to have this business worked out before I left my afternoon meeting.” he gestured to the thief. “My man here was keeping me updated on his progress, and it seems like your stock is the best inside the city, but for the price you’re asking, I wanted to see for myself what these containers looked like.”

“Of course, Your Highness.” The man looked nervously between Noctis and Gladio, gulping a little when Gladio crossed his arms over his chest and subtly flexed.

Noctis tried not to roll his eyes again. They did agree Gladio was supposed to be intimidating.

“B-but this isn’t the stock I was referring to when I set my price,” the dealer pressed. “Those containers are in a drier part of the yard.”

Noctis watched the flash of a glare pass over the thief’s features before it passed, his expression settling into an impassive mask. 

“Please,” Noctis asked, “May I see them?”

The dealer ducked his head in a nod and motioned the three of them to follow. The “drier part of the yard”, as Noctis understood it, was a massive pole barn built halfway into part of the hill he and Gladio had walked down earlier. Inside were dozens of containers that looked like they had only come off ships in the Sound yesterday. There was a little rust, but it hadn’t eaten through the structure like the containers they’d seen before. 

“Very nice,” Noctis asked. “These are five thousand each?”

“Yes, Your Highness.” There was a pause, a nervous shuffling of feet. “But for you, I could part with them for half that much.”

The thief dropped into a fit of coughs, and Noctis could have sworn he heard the word “bastard” threaded in there somewhere. 

“Will you give me a bigger discount if I buy all of them?” Noctis asked, trying to remember the way his father has seemed to  _ press _ in on people with his gaze. It was all Noctis could do not to go cross-eyed, but he tried it anyway, even though he was sure it was Gladio’s presence doing most of the work.

The dealer hesitated, clearly torn between upsetting the prince and making a profit. In the end. He seemed to feel that sacrificing the latter was worth it. “I can give you the dozen for ninteen thousand, Your Highness.”

Noctis nodded, stomping down in his desire to whoop for joy. He really  _ could _ do this haggling thing! He checked himself, turning to the thief with a barely contained grin. “Does that seem fair? You’re the expert.”

The thief nodded quickly. “More than fair.

“Then it’s settled. I’ll pay you now, then I’ll have these picked up later in the week.”

 

* * *

 

 

“I cannot  _ believe _ that worked!” The thief crowed, twisting his body to peer at Noctis from the passenger seat of the car. “Didn’t know you had it in you, Noctis!”

Noctis sighed, feeling drained. He hadn’t been under so much pressure to perform in his life. “I swear I sounded like I was from Cleigne for half of that,” he groaned, lounging in the back. 

“Sure did,” Gladio agreed, “but you did good. The guy was just intimidated enough by royalty to give you a fair deal.”

“I think that was mostly you,” Noctis supplied. 

“Well, I won’t argue there.” He looked over at the thief. “Where do you live? I can drop you off.”

“Oh, you can drop me off at the market corner near Cherry street. I have a few errands to run before I head home.”

“Cherry? Isn’t that near the part of town where there’s been a lot of gang activity? Sure you’ll be okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” he replied with a quick grin. “The neighborhood knows me.”

“If you say so,” Gladio rumbled, turning off of the dirt road and back onto the smoothly paved roadway.

Noctis eyed the thief from where he sat, wondering about his earlier reaction.

 

>> Sorry about the name. Gladio wanted to know who I was meeting, so I gave him the first thing that popped into my mind.

<< Argentum is a pretty weird name to have on the tip of your tongue.

>> It belonged to a kid I used to know

<< Oh yeah?

>> Yeah, haven’t seen him for years. Is Gaius your real name?”

<< What do you think?

>> Just asking

<< Just call me Gaius for now

 

Noctis paused, cocking his head to the side at the odd phrasing. “For now” implied that he might one day know the thief’s real name. For some reason, he liked that possibility. While they had a rocky start, and neither of them were exactly friendly with one another, Noctis liked him. He thought, maybe if they’d met under different circumstances, they could have been friends.

 

<< I should bring your muscle dude on jobs with me. Never have to worry about the police again.

>> Better not. He never shuts up.

<< You friends?

>> Yeah. Gladio is my shield and Ignis, the one I’m always in meetings with, is my advisor.   They’re my only friends.”

<< I’m sorry

>> For what?

<< Nevermind

 

* * *

 

 

Prompto shut the car door and gave the prince’s shield a little wave as he drove away. He watched the car go, thinking first that he’d somehow escaped with his identity intact - had narrowly avoided giving himself away to Noctis. Second, today had been … productive. He hadn’t expected Noctis to do as he had. In fact, he hadn’t even thought it would work. He supposed that the royal family of Lucis still held sway over the common man, especially if they went around all straight backed and bright-eyed, too earnest for their damn good.

He huffed indignantly. At least Noctis did. 

Did he  _ have _ to be so  _ personable _ all the time,  _ awkward, human? _

He shook his head and sighed to himself, looking around to get his bearings before setting off down the street. Snow still clung to the corners of buildings and the lip of the curb along the sidewalk, and his boots splashed through half frozen puddles as he walked. He needed to check in with Nicodemus for his next job, and get an estimate on his anticipated haul and the potential buyers before he went risking his neck inside citadel grounds again.

He wondered what part of Noctis’ project he could fund with the cash. Maybe heavier blankets? Now that the shipping containers were a go, they could focus more on peripheral needs. Noctis had already set up a food service at Prompto’s suggestion, though he was less than thrilled about the menu choices.

Honestly Prompto had no idea what the guy had against green beans, but his reaction to seeing it on the menu had been almost comical.

Trust a prince to be so damn picky.

Prompto was so distracted by his musings, he didn’t notice the man fall into step beside him until his bulk cast a shadow over Prompto as they passed beneath a glaring red neon light. Ever cautious, Prompto stepped back, fingers twitching toward the gun holstered along his back, beneath his jacket. 

“Something I can do for you?” he asked sharply, angling his body away from the massive man. 

He reminded Prompto a lot of Gladio, actually.

The man smiled. “Yes, actually, Prompto Argentum?”

Prompto narrowed his  and set his teeth. People had been waving his last name around a lot lately. “Who’s asking?”

“My name is Glauca. You might have heard of me.”

Shaking his head, Prompto replied. “I’ve never heard of you in my life. Now tell me what you want.”

The man tsked, nonchalantly shoving his hands into his pockets. “Just thought we could help each other out. You’re Empire. So am I.”

Prompto shook his head. “Dude, you have me confused with someone else. I don’t have anything to do with the Empire.”   
The man’s smile widened. It tugged at the corners of his pale blue eyes, and Prompto couldn’t help but feel he looked at least a little familiar. Still, he did  _ not _ work for the Empire. 

“Come on. What’s your mission, MT? I can help with your directive. You’re the one who’s been making targeted strikes against the royal family, right? Stealing little artifacts here and there? Undermining the integrity of their history by fencing away their limited relics?”

“I’m not a fucking MT and I’m not working for the Empire. Leave me alone,” Prompto growled. He turned to leave, keeping the weirdo, Glauca, within sight.

“But you hate them, don’t you? The so called royal family of Lucis? You hate how they’ve abandoned their people?” The man’s smile remained. “The Empire would take care of them.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen what the Empire does so thanks but no thanks.”

“Think about it, Prompto!” Glauca called as Prompto hurried down the sidewalk, eager to be away from him. “You could save them all!” 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drautos solemnly swears he's up to no good, Prompto is in a buttload of denial, and Noctis more or less comes out on top

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FRIENDS  
> This chapter has been a _labor_ of love, let me tell you. I lost the outline I had made for this story, and as a result had to rework the _entire_ thing before finishing this chapter. To say things have been shuffled around is a fricker-frackin understatement forreal. That being said, I'm super grateful to everyone who has commented on this fic. I ground up all of the sweet words of encouragement and snorted them to sustain myself while I was losing my damn mind (see [this video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YTUoS7Lwoq4)). But that's enough of me airing my woes to all of you wonderful people. On with the show.  
>  A very special thanks to RedHawkeRevolver and mahbecks for dealing with my constant need for reassurance. You are both <3.  
> Hope this chapter gives everyone the warm fuzzies! :D

Titus Drautos leaned forward over the console and rubbed his fingers over the stubble on his chin. He’d scared the shit out of that MT yesterday, something he didn’t think was actually possible until the moment he’d seen the open, vulnerable expression on the thing’s face. All of the MTs he’d worked with in the past had been cold, efficient, _ruthless_ , and this one was such a unique little enigma he’d wondered about the legitimacy of its existence.

Maybe the thing had gone rogue. It could have even had some kind of electrical short and wandered away from its pod. That was unlikely, all the way out here in Insomnia, but the thing’s presence in the city was so odd that he wasn’t willing to discredit any eventuality without proof. That, and he wouldn’t put some crazy, mad scientist bullshit off the shelf when Verstael was concerned. Titus wouldn’t want to inadvertently interfere with any of the good doctor’s experiments and then pay for it later.

He wondered if Iedolas had any control over the man anymore. Sending an MT into the heart of Lucian territory was as stupid as it was ballsy. If the MT was a spy, and it had been caught by anyone but Drautos, word would have gone straight up the chain of command to the King, and the call to war would have been swift and imminent. As of right now, the Empire didn’t have the leverage against Lucis for that to be a wise move. In fact, it could have been disastrous for their efforts in the region.

The people of Lucis were supposed to be pressured, uncomfortable. Their lives were not meant to be easy beneath the Empire’s thumb. That was the plan, anyway. When the citizenry began to suffer, they would turn to their king, and when he had no answer for them - no way to relieve their suffering - they would grow restless. Many, he knew, would soon begin to look upon the Empire with kinder eyes because, while living under Imperial rule was strict, its citizens had homes, had food - had their very lives.

And the grass, Drautos knew, would always look greener on the other side for those desperate enough to believe it.  

Peering at the monitor in front of him, Drautos keyed back and forth between two photos. Each of them contained an enlarged image of the barcode every MT had stamped onto their wrist - if they had skin, that is. Most didn’t. In that case, the I.D. attached to the barcode was laser engraved onto each part of an MT’s titanium skeleton. It worked sort of like the lot numbers on car parts.

Though he’d prefer to just identify this model without sticking his hands inside it.

Drautos scribbled down the final digit of the code, as well as he could make out, anyway, and took out his phone. The device wasn’t Crownsguard issued, so he didn’t have to worry about his call being monitored when his contact in Gralea picked up the line.

“Good evening, General, is there anything I can do for you?”

“I need you to trace an MT code for me. There might be a rogue out here giving us away,” he replied.

“Read the code when you’re ready.”

 

* * *

 

 

Prompto shoved a pile of dirty laundry to the side, revealing the solid bulk of the floor safe he kept hidden away in his closet. He almost never uncovered the thing, yet here he was, opening it twice over the course of a couple weeks, and all because of Noctis Lucis Caelum.

And the weird cat rabbit thing.

He reached inside the safe, feeling around blindly without a flashlight to guide him until his fingertips brushed the smooth cool stone that made up the statuette. Prompto pulled the figure out and settled it flat in his palm while he sat back to lean against his closet door frame.

Carbuncle, huh? Prompto regarded the figure with a greater measure of understanding than he had when he had last seen the thing. For one, his opinion of Noctis had changed pretty drastically from the night he'd stolen the figure. Then too, he'd learned that this thing, whatever it was, was one of the prince’s most cherished possessions and, perhaps more than that, one of his few friends.

At one time Prompto would have been elated to know he held such an important item in his hands - that by having it, he could somehow bend Noctis to his will and force the prince to do what he asked of him. The idea, now, in context, made him feel a little sick. While it was true that Noctis was more privileged than most, Prompto had come to learn he had the same worries and fears and dreams as anyone else. Prompto realized, he supposed, that Noctis was human, and deserved what dignity he could get - even if he tried his hardest to look like a shy, socially inept shut-in half the time.

Prompto smiled to himself. Yeah, his first impression of the prince hadn't been that pivotal, as an adult anyway. As a kid, Prompto remembered Noctis as almost … otherworldly. Untouchable.

Prompto sighed and curled his fingers around the figure, closing his eyes for a minute. He tried to bring the image in his mind's eye of the prince back in that junkyard yesterday looking so … pleased with himself. Happy. His cheeks flushed with adrenaline from the nerves of having to try something uncomfortable, and that he'd never done before. His eyes bright with pride. As they should have been, really.

Noctis had done something for himself, and something for others too - for people who needed him to step outside of his comfort zone and be the kind of prince they desperately needed.

Prompto, much as he tried to avoid admitting it, admired Noctis for his bravery. Well, mostly he admired him as a person, if he were being honest with himself, and now, more than he ever had, wanted to know the prince - truly know him. As a friend.

He opened his eyes and regarded the statuette again. “And that's why you're going back to where you came from.”

 

* * *

 

 

Prompto’s phone went off in the middle of the night, the loud vibration against the wooden surface of his bedside table startling him out of a dead sleep. “The hell?” he grumbled, reaching out to grab his device. Eyes bleary, he blinked at the bright light of the screen, then promptly groaned at the new message on the display.

‘Are you done shutting me away now?’

“To be fair, I only half-thought it might stop you from bothering me,” Prompto sighed, casting his gaze to the foot of his bed where, sure enough, the weird cat rabbit thing sat like it had that first night. “Color me surprised when it worked.”

‘A machine capable of sarcasm,’ it replied back, the display on Prompto’s phone lighting up again. ‘Fascinating.’

“ _Don’t_ call me that,” Prompto said forcefully, more so than he’d intended. He was reminded of his encounter with Glauca, an experience he was trying desperately to forget.

He was Prompto. He was born and grew up in Lucis. He lived with his parents in a big empty house in Insomnia, and he didn’t know _anything_ about the Empire except that it didn’t like to play nice with other nations.

Slowly, he reached up to rub at his wrist - at the tattoo he had been too drunk to remember getting when he was younger. He was Prompto. He _was_ Prompto.

He realized he was hurting himself once he heard the bones in his wrist creak under the stress, and quickly let his arm go. Carbuncle had been silent for a while, seemingly letting Prompto work through the strange, awful feelings Glauca had instilled in him. Finally, however, it changed tack and picked up another thread of conversation.

‘So, you’re going to return me to Noctis?’

Prompto glanced up, coming back to the conversation slowly. “Yeah. I’ll hand you over the day after tomorrow when I see him again.”

‘He’ll appreciate that. Did you have a change of heart?”

Prompto thought about that, realizing that he had. “Yeah, I guess I did. Noctis is a … better person than I thought he would be.”

‘He’s always been a good person. Noctis is kind and earnest.’

The cat rabbit was right. Noctis was both of those things, and probably more. Prompto wanted to find out - to see what the prince was like without the safety of his friend hanging over his head anymore. Would he even want to get to know Prompto then, or would he prefer they go their separate ways?

Prompto hoped he would stay.

His phone went off again, and Prompto snorted, a little embarrassed, at what the text read.

‘You’re kind too.’

“Alright, g’night cat rabbit. No more texting.”

 

* * *

 

 

Noctis stepped up onto the lowest rung of the guard rail barring him from tumbling into the now calm waters of the spillway below. Just on the other side of the man-made rapids lay the worst area of the slums where, up until recently, Lucian refugees had been huddling together inside cardboard boxes for warmth and shelter.

He couldn’t fathom living in such a way for even one night, let alone the months they must have spent down there. It must have been such a change from the lives they had left behind. While Noctis had been outside of Insomnia’s walls, it had been when he was a very young child, and he had only traveled as far as Leide. It was not a great scope of reference to draw on when thinking of the people of Lucis and now, with the Empire slowly encroaching further into their territory, he wondered if he might ever get to see the places these people had come from.

Maybe he would ask Gaius to introduce him to a few of the families he knew.

Gaius, he snorted. What a silly moniker. Would he ever learn the thief’s real name?

Probably not. After Noctis finished paying for Carbuncle with his time they were supposed to part ways, right? A prince couldn’t hope, or _shouldn’t_ hope rather, to make friends with a thief. Least of all a thief that had stolen something from him.

Even so … Noctis liked him. He thought they got along well together despite how they’d met, and he enjoyed listening to the man’s insight, even if it could be uncomfortable at times, given his distaste for the Crown and Noctis’ proximity to it.

“Highness? How long are we to be standing out here in the elements?”

Noctis looked back over his shoulder at Ignis standing by the car, who had shrugged his jacket up to his ears, hands shoved into his pockets while still trying to appear dignified. “They haven’t even started moving them yet!” he called back. “If you’re cold, go get a coffee!”

Even from at the distance he was standing Noctis could make out the consideration on his advisor’s face. It was hilarious how quickly the mention of coffee could turn one of Ignis’ moods on its head.

“I promised Gladio I would keep an eye on you while he was out entertaining Iris.”

Noctis hopped down from the rail and began to walk back toward Ignis. “You mean take her shopping for a dress.”

“Yes, for a silly dance she’d be better off not attending,” Ignis sighed, longsuffering, like _he_ was the one expected to chaperone Gladio’s little sister to the event.

“That silly dance _is_ prom, you know,” Noctis grinned. “It’s important to her.”

Ignis adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose. “Be that as it may, there are surely countless other, more intellectually stimulating uses of her time.”

Noctis rolled his eyes. “She’s 16 and got asked to a dance by an upperclassman, I’d say that’s by and far more important than studying.”

“Then let us hope she does not live to regret her decision.”

“You make it sound like she’s planning a murder.”

His advisor narrowed his eyes on Noctis, but said nothing, seeming to sense he would be unable to bring Noctis to view his perspective on the subject of teenage girls and the importance of school dances.

“I believe I will go get some coffee,” Ignis hummed thoughtfully. “You will remain here, correct? You won’t move?”

“Nope. I want to make sure those containers get placed before the sky opens up,” Noctis replied, looking up to eye the darkening clouds overhead.

Ignis nodded to himself. “Very well. Anything you’d like me to get for you while I’m away?”

“Hot chocolate,” came the immediate reply.

“What size?”

Noctis stared at his advisor knowingly, shortly before the man made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat.

“Of course. The largest one available. Shall I ask them to throw in a few cans of whipped cream while they’re at it?”

“Would you?”

“No,” Ignis deadpanned, then promptly got into the car. “Stay put!”

Noctis watched the car pull away from the turn out with a smile. He had left behind the need for babying long ago, but Ignis, despite his grumbling, still spoiled him absolutely rotten. And Noctis wasn't about to _not_ take advantage of his advisor’s good nature where sweets were concerned.

Looking forward to his extra large hot chocolate, Noctis turned back toward the guardrail to see the first of the shipping containers being slowly set into position. He wondered if the thief was nearby watching as well.

 

<< Hey, are you watching the containers go in?

 

The message caused his phone to vibrate in his palm and, he would reflect later, brought a smile to his lips. Unsure if he was feeling proud of himself, or just happy the thief was talking to him, he replied nonetheless.

 

> Yep! I've been waiting for them to start. Watching from the Spillway overlook.

<< How long have you been out there? I'll come watch with you.

> Just a few minutes. And good! I had something I wanted to ask you anyway.

<< You could just ask now.

> Do you know any refugee families who would be willing to talk to me? I was thinking earlier about how much I don't know about the rest of Lucis, and figured talking with people who aren't from Insomnia might be a good place to begin to learn.

<< I think that's a great idea. Let me think about who I'd recommend while I walk up to you.

 

Noctis only had to wait about ten minutes or so before “Gaius” trotted up beside him.

“Wow, this really is a good view.”

“Right? I asked Ignis about a good location to watch from and he recommended this one,” Noctis replied, looking over at the thief.

He was wearing a wool sweater that looked comfortably gathered around his neck to fend off the damp chill. It was almost the same color as his hair, Noctis thought, which only made the thief’s eyes seem a bit brighter than usual. Strange, Noctis didn't think a sweater could have lent itself so well to featuring the openness of a person's expression, but he did seem more … approachable? Receptive?

“I wouldn't have guessed your advisor came through this area very often.”

Noctis smiled. “Oh, you're right. He only researched it through maps. I don't think he's ever been down here before.”

The thief laughed. “ ‘course not. Oh!” He paused for a moment and reached into his pocket. “Here.”

He grabbed Noctis’ free hand, opening his fingers before placing the cool, familiar weight of Carbuncle’s statuette into his palm. Noctis’ fingers immediately curled around the figure, his eyes darting up to the thief’s in confusion.

“But I'm not done yet.”

“Gaius” laughed again, though he shifted his weight on his feet, seeming a little uncomfortable in the moment. “Well, I was thinking about that, and I realized, as I got to know you more-.” He cut himself off, his eyes darting over to where the first shipping container was being settled into the ground. “I uh-. Just forget about that deal, alright?”

Noctis frowned. It wasn't like he was upset to have Carbuncle back. Hell, that's how this whole adventure began, but he didn't quite understand what was going on, or why the thief wasn't looking at him when he was usually so confident and full of himself. “So, I don't have to put in anymore time?”

“No. You don't. You don't have to do anything you don't want to do.” He smirked. “You _are_ the prince, after all.”

Noctis’ frown deepened. “I didn't screw something up, did I?”

“Huh? No! You didn't screw anything up. I guess -. I Just figured if you were going to help these people, you should be doing it of your own volition. You're really, surprisingly, good at it. You have great ideas, and you seem to genuinely care about your subjects. I didn't want to spoil that by extorting you.”

Noctis sensed there was more hidden beneath the thief’s words, but he didn't pursue it as he tucked Carbuncle securely into his pocket. The thief took that silence to draw closer to the guardrail and lean his hip against it, crossing his arms to look as though he’d regained his composure, but Noctis wasn’t so sure. He still seemed a little jittery, uneasy, at least as far as he could tell - granted, he didn’t know the guy as well as he would have liked to. He also felt like there was something left unsaid between them, something Noctis wanted to reaffirm both for himself, and the man who he had come to, grudgingly at times, respect.

“I’m going to stay,” he said finally, drawing up beside the thief, looking out at the other side of the spillway. “I’ve already started something here.”

The thief chewed his bottom lip before answering. “You don’t have to stick around cause you feel guilty or something. You’ve already done more than most could. I wouldn’t have any hard feelings if you walked, and you probably have more important things to do - with Niflheim sniffing around.”

Noctis started shaking his head before “Gaius” had stopped speaking, wanting to make his point clear.

“No. I mean I want to stay. I genuinely, really, feel like I want to be here and help these people. I want to-.” Now it was his turn to stumble over his words, unsure of how much he should say and how much he should keep to himself. He was excellent at keeping things in, but perhaps he needed to try and air his feelings just a little bit more. “I want to be like you. I want to help people’s lives get better _because I can and because it’s the right thing to do_. You were right when you said I was spoiled. I am, and I can use it to help. What’s wrong with living well if I can share it with others, right?” Noctis was on a roll now, probably speaking with more conviction than he ever had in his life about anything - except maybe wanting that chocobo for his fifth birthday which is father had staunchly refused him. “If I go back to the citadel now and wash my hands of this I’ll just be doing what everyone expects me to. I’ll be going back to home to sit and wait around for my dad to die so I can take over the burden of the wall to keep everyone safe. I’ll be part of meetings I don’t really have the capacity to understand because no one will tell me anything important, and-” He stopped, watching the wide, surprised expression on the thief’s face morph into something a little gentler.

“And?” the man prompted, turning to face him fully. “Don’t tell me you’ve run out of steam already. This is a juicy cliffhanger.”

“And I just-. I just want to feel useful. I want to know that I can do something, _anything_ , well.” He shook his head. “I know that’s selfish.” Noctis grumbled to himself as he finished and turned away to look out over the spillway again. That entire tirade sounded lame even to him. What, so he wanted to help others to help himself? Yeah, that was some real philanthropy there. Good for you, Prince Egocentric.

“I don’t think so.”

Noctis turned back to look at the thief, a questioning quirk to his brow.

“I don’t. I thought the same thing when I started stealing. I mean, I was filled with a whole helluva lot of righteous indignation, but my motives were selfish too. I think all gestures of kindness start that way, Prince Noctis, but if it helps more people to do something about the shitty state of the world, who am I to judge? And for what it’s worth, you standing out here right now, making sure everything goes alright down there?” He gestured across the way from them, to where a second container was being placed next to the first. “That says a lot more about your self _less_ ness, than your self _ish_ ness. ‘Least in my opinion.”

Noctis wasn’t expecting any support with his feeling from the thief, least of all a heartfelt show of respect. It made him feel giddy, warm inside, and he tried mightily to suppress a stupid, goofy smile from giving his effervescent happiness away. “Thank you.” Noctis looked at the man once he had himself under control, hoping he appeared grateful for the gesture. “That actually means a lot to hear you say that, _Gaius_.”

The thief winced. “That really _is_ a dumb name. S’what I get for thinking it up on the fly.”

“ _Just call me Gaius for now_ ,” Noctis teased, trying to imitate the thief’s voice.

The man rolled his eyes in response, but he was smiling just the same. “Try Prompto instead.”

“Hmm?”

“Prompto. My name is Prompto. Nice to meet you again, Prince Noctis.”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone enjoyed this chapter. I just wanted to respond to a comment I got on the last chapter about the name Gaius being a Fire Emblem Awakening reference. YES! It is! I'm so sorry I didn't understand that comment sooner! I was so confused! But yes, it's totally a Fire Emblem reference, good on you for noticing! :D
> 
> Second, everyone PLEASE go check out the Cor/Ardyn fic _doe eye and lies_ by thetealord and jonphaedrus if that ship is your thing, or even if it isn't. It's one of the BEST fics I have ever read on any fanfiction site, and it deserves all of the love it can possibly handle.
> 
> Thanks for reading, everyone! Have a kick ass day!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto steals, Noctis worries, and Cor and Drautos butt heads.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back, all!  
> Things get a little sketchier in this chapter, despite its length. Hope you enjoy! ;)

Noctis blinked, feeling overwhelmed and confused and  _ happy _ all at once as he considered the man in front of him.

“You’re not teasing me, are you?” he asked, his nervousness causing his voice to waver with uncertainty. “After what I said in the car coming back from the junkyard …”

Prompto shook his head. “I’m not teasing you.” He flashed an encouraging smile at the prince. “Promise.”

“So you’re the same kid from primary school?” Noctis tried to conjure an image of Prompto from the depths of his memory and failing to recall even one specific detail about him other than what he had said to drive him off. He felt guilty for it, even though it had been almost fifteen years since they’d seen each other on top of only having met once. Still, for some reason, Noctis had always been able to remember Prompto’s, well, presence, even if other details of their meeting had faded over time.

Maybe this was the kind of  _ fate _ thing Gladio was always on about after reading one of his books. Maybe he and Prompto were always going to meet again one day. Maybe they were always supposed to be friends.

Well, he was probably getting ahead of himself. 

“Yep! Same ol’ Prompto,” he replied, leaning further over the guardrail as he peered at the progress being made across the spillway. After a moment he glanced back up at Noctis. “So, you wanted to know who you could talk to, right? I thought of a couple people who might be open to sharing their stories.”

Noctis nodded as he joined Prompto at the railing. “Right. People keep telling me I need more perspective.”

Prompto chuckled. “Well, everyone needs perspective all of the time.” He hesitated, then looked down at his hands as he clasped them over the rail. “You can always learn better from someone else than trying to do it alone. Err, well, I think that’s how that saying goes,” he laughed again, ruffling his own hair before launching into a one-sided conversation about the people he wanted Noctis to meet. 

Noctis  _ was _ listening, but kept sneaking glances every now and then, curious about Prompto in a way he was never curious about the thief. He thought maybe if he looked hard enough, he could recall the image of the boy that had faded from his mind so long ago. Instead of dredging up memories, however, Noctis instead noticed the way Prompto’s eyes lit up when he began to talk about the people he wanted Noctis to meet. He noticed the slight, smiling curve to his lips, and the expressive gesturing of his hands when he was trying to explain something he didn’t quite have the words for.

He’d probably already known it for some time, but the thief was charming. He was glad that despite having Carbuncle back in his possession, his rapport with Prompto hadn’t seemed to have changed. It was nice to have someone to talk to outside of the Citadel, outside of his responsibilities to the Crown, who saw him as who he could be rather than as what he was.

“Earth to Prince Spacecadet, you with us? Noctis?” 

Noctis startled at the hand waved in front of his face, blinking rapidly before turning a sheepish smile on Prompto. “Sorry, I missed that last part.”

Prompto snorted, though not meanly. “Figured. I was asking if you wanted me to introduce you today. I have time before eight.”

“Sure. What’s at eight?” Noctis asked, considering how he might encourage Ignis to change their plans.

“I need to case a location, maybe pick something up while I’m in the neighborhood.”

“What, like, scope it out?”

“Yep”

“To steal?”

Prompto smirked. “Uh, yeah, Noctis. Speaking of, you know anything about the Crownsguard armory? Like, guard rotations, entrances, exits, that sort of thing?”

Noctis shook his head, unsure of how to feel about Prompto stealing from his father’s men, even though he  _ knew _ he had done it in the past. He had assumed, naively, that Prompto would stop thieving after he had begun to finance the reconstruction in the slums.

“What’s up?” Prompto asked, looking a little too keenly at Noctis for his silence. 

“Is it necessary for you to keep stealing?” Noctis asked.

Prompto cocked his head. “Necessary? Not right now, I guess, no, but when someone needs food or medicine, it’s better to have something on hand, you know? That way there’s no waiting around where things could get worse.”

So, Noctis thought, he was still trying to be prepared for the eventuality that, once they had finished spending the Crown’s money, the people living here would be right back to square one. They would have slightly better living accommodations and the memory of a few nutritious meals, but what was that in the grand scheme of things really? Was Noctis really helping these people, or was he just setting them up for disappointment later down the line.

Suddenly the overwhelming weight of what he felt was his responsibility rose up to meet him, not unlike that night at the market when he had inadvertently run into Prompto. What had he said? Something about starting somewhere.

But Noctis wanted to  _ fix _ this. He wanted to make everything  _ permanently _ better for these people.  _ His _ people. 

Was that so unrealistic?

Even if he disapproved of Prompto’s stealing, and his choice of target - if Noctis could be so selfish, he could understand his reasoning. For all Noctis was trying to do, there was no guarantee that it would be enough, or that it would be a magic cure for all of the systemic shortcomings that had landed these refugees in their present situations in the first place.

Prompto was willing to risk his own safety, his own freedom, for the same uncertain future. They were, the pair of them, attempting to put a bandaid over a breach in a dam, so to speak, but Prompto took far greater risks than Noctis could imagine.

“Just be careful,” Noctis finally replied. “The Crownsguard aren’t the Glaive, but they shouldn’t be underestimated.” He had the bruises from Gladio and Cor to prove it - and  _ that _ was just sparring.

Prompto’s sly smile was back. “No promises.”

 

* * *

 

 

His face was plastered all over the news. Well, not his  _ entire _ face. Thankfully he’d been smart enough to obscure half of it when he’d decided to make the move on a six hundred year old pin commemorating the Lucian war of blah, blah blah. He couldn’t remember, and recalling historical facts he should have been paying attention to in school was not on his list of priorities when half of the damn city was on the lookout for him.

“You’re a damned idiot to go that high up,” Nicodemus groused. He was examining the pin with one hand while holding a magnifying loupe to his eye. It exaggerated his pupil when he looked up to glare at him, which would have made for a comical picture if Prompto had been in any sort of laughing mood. “They’ll be looking for you for weeks - and don’t think you can hide out here. Having this thing,” he gestured toward his shop with the hand that held the pin, “is dangerous enough as it is. Won’t be able to sell it until the commotion dies down. What the  _ hell _ were you thinking?”

Over Nicodemus’s complaining, the drone of the television filled the small room.

_ Authorities believe the theft to have occurred some time between eight and nine, just after the building had closed to the public. According to one source, the Crownsguard believes the thief to have paid admission to the viewing area and remained hidden inside until workers had left for the day. _

Prompto sighed, turning back toward the television. “It wasn’t like I was planning on tripping an alarm. I scoped the place out before tonight and didn’t see  _ anything _ that I didn’t avoid tonight. I accounted for every security system I could find, and then some. It makes no sense.”

“Yeah, well, you escaped by the skin of your teeth tonight. Better go home and lay low, maybe ask your princely friend if he can ask his daddy for more money instead. Seems the safer bet.”

Prompto crossed his arms over his chest, feeling a strange sort of weight in the pit of his stomach at the mention of Noctis. “I don’t want to involve him in this.”

He could practically feel Nicodemus’s stare boring into his back. “He’s involved with you anyway, and everyone down here knows it. If keeping him out of trouble is so important, cut the kid loose and let him manage things at the spillway on his own.”

_ The chase lasted for just over an hour, ending near the 800 block of North Cherry Street _ .  _ Crownsguard officials state that the thief’s experience with their run down strategies indicates ties to the Silver Thief, if it wasn’t the man himself. _

Prompto knew Nicodemus’s advice was sound. He  _ should _ cut ties with the prince and jump ship - go into hiding for a good long time and come back in a month or two with an easier target. Problem was, he didn’t think he could leave Noctis adrift for that long. Well, it wasn’t like the guy was completely helpless, but-.

Prompto sighed, running a hand through his hair as he began to pace.

But they were a team. Noctis provided the means, and Prompto provided the opportunity. While Noctis was definitely coming into his own, Prompto wasn’t about to leave him to his own devices when he was just learning how big of a difference he could make for his people. The last thing he wanted was for Noctis to have a bad taste left in his mouth if he was left floundering without support.

He’d just have to take it easy, right? Though, something was worrying him. He really  _ had _ accounted for every security measure he knew the Crownsguard employed, so how was it they’d discovered him so quickly? What was he missing?

That guy, Glauca, came to mind.  _ He _ definitely seemed to know something about him, he thought as he rubbed his wrist. 

He was saved from diving deeper into that niggling thought by the vibration of his phone in his pocket. He only brought his work phone out with him on heists, knowing it was too dangerous to keep any form of identification on him when he went out on nights like this. Unsurprisingly, it was Noctis’ number flashing across his screen.

“You’re calling late,” he answered.

“I saw the news. That was you, right?”

“Yeah, that was me. No worries, though. I’m lying low.”

“You’re sure you’re okay? There’s been some talk at the citadel.”

“Yeah?”

“Cor, The Marshal, he’s saying-” Noctis cut himself off there, and Prompto could hear him let out a frustrated sigh. “Well, nevermind. Glad you’re alright.”

Prompto tried not to examine how pleased that made him feel too closely. Of all things, he hadn’t expected Noctis to be  _ worried  _ about him. Then again, if their positions had been reversed, he’d feel the same. Hell, he thought he was over all the wishy washy crush bullshit he’d experienced when he was younger - for the same prince, too.

Well, let it never be said he had poor taste - in jewels or in men.

“Me too. Hey, listen, it’s probably not safe for you to be calling me for a while. I need to disappear for a bit until the heat is off. I’ll contact you, okay?”

“You don’t need anything?”

Prompto sighed, thought it was without any heat. It was ridiculous how sweet Noctis could be. Prompto  _ had _ broken in, entered, and stolen from Crown property, after all. “I’m fine. Just keep doing what you’re doing in the meantime.”

“Alright, well, see you around.”

“Later”

He hung up to find Nicodemus rolling his eyes so far back into his head that prompto thought the man might go blind. “You,” he said with a snort, “are an idiot.”

“Yeah, probably.”

 

* * *

 

 

“You  _ knew _ there was a rogue MT running around Insomnia and didn’t  _ tell _ anyone? Titus, that’s a fuckload of protocol you just  _ decided _ to ignore. What the hell were you planning on sending the Glaive to do?”

Titus Drautos leaned back in his chair, and watched with amusement as Cor, red faced, glowered down at him. The Marshal was furious, and this was the closest he had seen the man come to shouting outside of a training room in the entirety of his employment. 

“I had several of them keeping tabs on him. It appears he is behaving, for now.”

“So you have all of the details on him? His name, where he lives and works, and you’re  _ not _ going to give them to me?”

“Afraid not. The Glaive got this one first, Marshal,” he replied, narrowing his eyes at him. “As an MT, he poses a direct threat to the people of Lucis from the Empire, and that’s  _ my _ jurisdiction. The Crownsguard only protect the king, the Kingsglaive hold the fate of all Lucian’s in our hands. Not that you’d know, after having a hand in dissolving the only military force capable of defending civilians from Imperial rule.”

Oh, well  _ that _ struck a nerve. Cor’s bright eyes focused in on Drautos like he was an opponent on the field - like he was an obstacle to be struck down. And perhaps he was, though not today.

“I don’t trust you, Drautos,” The Marshal rumbled. “You hide too much behind the Glaive and keep the rest of us out of your business, enough that it hinders our own work. I’m appealing to the Clarus for the final say on this, but you’d better have that MT within ten feet of a Glaive at all times if you don’t want to lose your damn job.”

“Noted, Marshal. Is there anything else?”

Cor looked like he wanted to clock Drautos in the jaw but, as expected, he withheld himself from giving into the impulse. Only the white-knuckled grip of his fist gave his desire away. 

“No. Stay in line, Titus, if you know what’s good for you.”

The Marshal turned and left, shutting the door to Drautos’ office so softly it sent a little shudder down his spine. It might as well have been slammed in his face. He and Cor had never exactly seen eye to eye, and he was sure he was going to run straight to Clarus and tattle on Drautos’ little lapse in protocol.

He had to move fast. Securing that MT might be the one thing standing between Insomnia’s continued sovereignty and complete Imperial rule.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto returns, Papabear Gladio makes a case, and Glauca is a creep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again everyone!   
> Welp, this is the chapter. Well, not THE chapter, but one where things being to fall into place for our favorite nerds. Also, at this point, I feel like I should just make a headcanon for Glauca/Drautos where he creeps around Insomnia for Prompto in a shitty old van with "Free Candy" spray painted on the side.  
> I'm also sorry. Very, very sorry.
> 
> Warnings: Violence at the end of this chapter. Make a good decision for yourself.

Prompto hummed to himself as he wandered through the slightly less mucky streets of the slums. The journey to the spillway was usually pretty damp, paths made over the troughs of stagnant water with rotting two by fours the only sure way to make it with dry feet. He assumed his good fortune was the result of steadily warming weather until he'd gotten to the first row of homes made from the shipping containers he had purchased with Noctis earlier that year. 

Carefully, placed into the soil, directing rainwater down the hill, were narrow, plastic pipes. They had been anchored in some places with rocks, and shoddily bound together with tape, but their purpose had been served. This section of road, after all, appeared much drier than what he'd just traversed. 

“Well that's clever,” he murmured to himself, then followed the pipe to the entrance of one of the shipping containers. 

He'd been going for far too long, he realized, when the containers had become homes. Complete with windows and doors, and sparse furnishings, Prompto suddenly felt giddy with the success of Noctis’ plan. The prince had been so unsure at the beginning, but he'd very clearly made a difference here - a huge one.

Reminded of the other reason for his visit, Prompto looked around him, trying to see if His Highness was nearby. He was happy to see the prince down near the concrete shore of the spillway, surrounded by more than a few of the refugee children in the middle of a game of catch. 

“Figured you'd show up here sooner or later.”

Prompto jumped, whirling around at the voice of the person who'd so easily crept up on him. “You!”

“Shh, keep your voice down.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” Prompto demanded, eyeing the man, Glauca, warily. 

He was leaning up against the side of one of the homes, and ignored Prompto's question completely to run a hand along the metal siding.

“Prince Noctis did a good job with these. Was it your idea?”

Prompto glared at him, biting his tongue. What the hell did this creep want from him? 

Glauca slid off of the wall, gaining his footing in the drying muck with ease. “Not in the mood to talk, hmm? Well, that's fine. I did a little research into your code.”

Prompto felt a weight in his stomach at those words. He didn't know what the guys was talking about, but- but something in the way he said the word code resonated within him, like it was something he  _ knew _ he knew, but couldn't recall. 

“Have you ever wondered why you like social work? Why you're so caring? Why you're so sensitive to the plights of others - even going so far as to steal for them?”

Glauca’s clear, cold, blue gaze felt like a knife carving it's way through his skin. It was as if he was being laid open for some kind of examination, and the sensation was as familiar as it was unsettling. It wasn't like he recognized Glauca, because he really didn't, only the way he was being scrutinized like he was some kind of experiment.

“Doesn't really seem like the normal course of action a person would take, right?” Glauca continued quietly as he stepped forward, and on instinct, Prompto moved back, maintaining the distance between them.

“I'm not interested in whatever you have to say to me, so get lost,” Prompto growled.

Glauca smiled, but the expression didn't reach his eyes. “Are you sure? Don't you want to know why your house always seems empty and your parents have no time for you?” His eyes darted to Noctis. “Or maybe the reason you're so interested in the royal family - in Noctis? I can give you the answers.”

Prompto wasn't sure when the man had gotten so close - how he'd moved so  _ fast _ \- But he'd somehow managed to get ahold of Prompto’s wrist, pulling him forward like he was going to try and move him bodily. “I can tell you everything you've ever wondered about yourself if you come with me.”

“I'm not going fucking  _ anywhere _ with you! Leave. Me. Alone!”

Overwhelmed, because he  _ had _ wondered all of those things at one time or another and because the creep had his fucking  _ hands _ on him, Prompto surged into action. He twisted his wrist, yanked his hand out of Glauca’s grip, and threw his elbow upward. He felt the wet crunch beneath his arm, but didn't think to stop and examine the damage he'd done to the creep’s face. Instead, he made a break for it, running until he'd made it to the shore and burst into Noctis’ game - probably looking breathless and half terrified.

“H-hey!” He said lamely. “Long time, no see!”

 

* * *

 

Noctis blinked, surprised. He hadn’t expected to see Prompto. In fact, he hadn’t expected to see Prompto for a  _ while _ . It’d been weeks since they’d broken contact for the thief’s safety, and he half thought he’d gone and disappeared for good.

“Cat got your tongue?” Prompto asked him.

“N-no, I just wasn’t expecting to see you.” Noctis flushed red, averting his gaze just in time to see a strangely familiar shape of a man duck into the shadowy space between two of the new container homes. What the hell was Drautos doing out here? Keeping tabs? He shifted his attention to Gladio, who was reclining against a concrete piling with a book in his lap, and wondered. “But it’s good to see you again,” Noctis added a moment later, returning his attention to Prompto 

The kids had continued their game without him, moving off to a less crowded part of the shore. At least it felt crowded to Noctis, with Prompto standing so close.

“Yeah, I missed you too,” the thief replied. “Being under self-imposed house arrest isn’t any fun, and I was curious if you’d keep things up around here.” He indicated the homes with a jerk of his chin, and Noctis felt the warm rush of pleasure spread through him any time Prompto happened to praise him for something he’d thought of all on his own. 

Noctis shrugged, trying to play off the feeling while maintaining his dignity. “I just kept doing little things every day I guess. Specs, err, Ignis and I put together a new menu for the hospitality kitchen. Well, mostly Ignis, actually. Think he almost had a stroke when he saw what people had been eating every day.”

Prompto nodded, distracted, and looked behind him every so often - back in the direction he had seen Drautos disappear. Noctis wasn’t stupid - he knew something wasn’t quite right, but was it his place to comment on it? Was it about the theft that had caused Prompto to have to disappear? Noctis frowned worrying his lower lip over what direct surveillance from the Glaive meant for Prompto.

Nothing good, he imagined.

“I’m listening, sorry,” Prompto said, pulling Noctis away from his concern momentarily. “Just a little jumpy after everything, you know?”

Noctis nodded. “Yeah, I guess I can understand that.”

Hearing Prompto voice his discomfort reminded him of his other project. Their last conversation had been worrying for him, and the resulting silence and inability to contact Prompto was alien enough to Noctis that he had decided to do something about it. As a prince, he wasn’t used to being  _ barred _ from anything or anyone, and so he looked for a way to make sure Prompto wasn’t ever going to be nearly caught again. Or, at least, increase the odds of his escape should the occasion arise.

He wondered if he should be having such thoughts at all - considering helping a thief - one who had been stealing from  _ his _ family, no less. If anyone found out he was helping  _ The Silver Thief _ , he’d- well, he’d have a helluva lot of explaining to do. He could practically see the headlines now.

_ Crown Prince Noctis Aids and Abets Serial Thief in the Robbery of Priceless Lucian Artifacts _

Even despite, or perhaps in spite of, his responsibility to his family line and honor, Noctis  _ wanted _ to help Prompto. He had a duty to his subjects, after all, over whom he felt he was becoming increasingly protective, and the only other person who was willing to work with him was that same thief. So, Noctis decided, he was willing to make an exception, even if he was completely ignoring other, softer feelings that had a hand in his choice.

“I think I have something that might help, though,” Noctis added a moment later, ducking his head again to hide his expression, though he’d essentially perfected his princely mask of indifference long ago.

Prompto make questioning noise in the back of his throat, attention drawn away from over his shoulder and focusing back on Noctis. He could feel Noctis reaching into the ether, he supposed. Even people who didn’t have any affiliation to the royal family or the crystal could sense its power. Just a moment later, the buzzing energy faded from his fingertips, and in Noctis’ palm was an ornate handgun that was probably a century older than him and worth more than his car. 

Even so, he wanted Prompto to have it. It would be able to serve him better than it ever would Noctis. Besides, he was more of a sword person anyway.

“Here,” Noctis said, lifting the gun up toward Prompto. “It’s yours.”

It took Prompto a minute to collect himself - it was probably his first time seeing the King’s magic, after all. To his credit, only his wide eyes gave his surprise away. He didn’t take the gun.

“Um, look Noctis, I appreciate the gesture and all, but guns aren’t my thing. I don’t  _ kill _ people, remember?”

Noctis smiled. “It’s not a  _ real gun. _ ” Then frowned. “Well, it  _ is _ a real gun, but it doesn't shoot bullets. It shoots magnesium pellets that create a flare. The friction from the Mythril barrel causes the chemical reaction - or something. I  _ think  _ that’s how it works anyway.”

Instead of looking pleased, or even a little curious, Prompto seemed almost  _ angry _ . “Mythril?” he demanded. “Noctis, do you have  _ any _ idea what that’s worth! That much mythril could feed a small army!”

Of course he had an  _ idea _ , but he wasn’t sure what Prompto was getting at. What was wrong with his gift? And why did its value seem like a  _ bad _ thing? Confused and a little embarrassed, Noctis searched for something to say to soothe Prompto’s fears. “It won’t hurt anyone,” he tried, “It’s just something to distract someone while you get away. I thought-.” He sighed through his nose, feeling silly for believing this had been a good idea - or even that his input in Prompto’s business would be welcome at all. He’d overstepped somehow, and messed things up. 

And his dad wondered why he hardly had any friends.

“After what happened last time, I thought it might keep you safe.”

Just as soon as it had come, Prompto’s ire seemed to vanish. He was still a little red faced, brows knit together in a frown, but he didn’t look as upset as he had moments before. “Sorry,” he said quickly, then sighed and said again, “I’m sorry. I should know by now that you’re not the type of person to just do this kind of thing thoughtlessly.” He pursed his lips. “And I’m an ass.”

“Could say that again.” Noctis looked up to see Gladio, book in hand, walking toward where he and Prompto stood. His shield looked a little put out himself. “Noctis put a lot of thought into that gesture, kid. When a future King of Lucis gives up part of his arsenal - makes himself weaker to help you become stronger - it’s something that should humble you. Doesn’t matter how much that gun is worth, what’s valuable here is that Noct obviously cares about what happens to you-”

“Gladio!” Noctis groaned, blushing, and was immediately shushed when the man clapped a hand over his mouth. 

“Lemme finish.” He turned his attention back to Prompto. “Now whether you accept his gift or not isn’t any of my business, but Noctis put himself out there for you because he wants you to be safe. Least you could do is consider how he feels too, instead of yourself and your hang ups.”

Prompto shifted uncomfortably on his feet.

“Done?” Noctis mumbled, glaring over Gladio’s palm. 

“I could keep going, if you wanted.”

Noctis heaved a sigh, shoving Gladio’s hand away from his face in mute mortification. “ _ No _ ! Thank you.” He hadn't been expecting a  _ speech _ . About  _ feelings _ . Feelings like, like  _ that _ . “Didn’t expect you to turn into Sir So-and-So from one of your novels.”

Hell

Gladio  _ winked _ at him. “Anything for you, princess.”

Noctis groaned again, and Prompto’s lips twitched into a smirk. “You’re right,” he said, then held Noctis’ gaze as he spoke again, “I wasn’t being considerate. I didn’t know how much it meant to you. I was just, surprised, I guess. I never expected you would do anything like this for me.” 

Noctis nodded “I'm sorry too. I didn't even think about how much it was worth. I just wanted to protect you, if I could.”

Prompto smiled. “you are one of the most selfless people I've ever met, Noctis. You don't have anything to feel sorry for. Just, uh, can we set the gift limit to under twenty gil?”

Noctis gave him a watery smile. “You still want it?” 

“Yeah, though you’ll have to teach me how to use it with your uh … sparkly stuff,” Prompto replied, gesturing with his hands to somehow convey the idea of what Noctis’ magic looked like.

At that, Noctis rolled his eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“You’re not … going to sell it, are you?”

“Hey!” Prompto cried, “You could at least try to have a  _ little _ faith!”

They looked at each other again, and dissolved into laughter.

“I’m really glad you’re back,” Noctis said a while later as they were walking back up through the slums, Gladio trailing behind them. “It was a little lonely without you bossing me around.”

“I’m glad to be back. Also? Not bossy. It’s not my fault you  _ need _ direction.”

A beat of silence passed between them where Noctis only watched Prompto’s expression. “What do you think? Of the improvements I’ve made since you’ve been away. I spoke to those people you recommended, and I’ve been trying to listen to everyone’s concerns. Well, not everyone, that would take a while, but I tried to address the biggest issues to reach the most people.”

Prompto chuckled, then smiled at him. “Dude, you’ve done  _ fantastic _ . This place has  _ never _ looked so, well,  _ normal _ . It’s still not a suburb, but it’s a hell of a lot better than what was here before. You’ve done an  _ amazing _ job - even without me bossing you around.”

Noctis ducked his head to hide his flushing cheeks. “So you admit it.”

“Maybe just a little. You heading back home after this?”

“Yeah, got some brunch in the morning with my dad.”

“Sounds fancy.”

“Fancy  _ torture _ ,” Noctis replied. “A three piece suit for a brunch is overkill.”

Prompto laughed at him. “I have no idea what a three piece suit is.”

“Lucky you.” Another pause. “Where are you headed?”

“Work.”

Noctis came to a stop, blinking in surprise. “Already?”

“Someone’s gotta pay the bills,” Prompto replied, meandering to a halt in front of him. He watched Noctis’ face, an amused smile quirking up the corner of his mouth. “Don’t be worried. I got something to protect me, remember? But I gotta run. I’ll find you later!”

For the first time, Noctis felt his chest ache as he watched Prompto leave, a lightness to his step that Noctis wished he could emulate on his best days. The smell of Gladio’s aftershave preceded him as he came shoulder to shoulder with Noctis. His Shield looked back at him, brows drawing down into a slight frown. 

“You gonna tell me why the Glaive is shadowing your friend?”

Noctis felt the color drain from his face. “Is that-?”

“Yeah. And it was the man himself, Drautos. For him to  _ personally  _ cover Prompto tells me one, that you haven’t been totally honest with me. And two, that your buddy’s in deep shit.”

Noctis grimaced, and followed Gladio as he turned to head back to their car. “That … sounds about right.”

“So, are you spilling voluntarily, or do I gotta call Iggy?” Gladio rumbled, sounding none too pleased, but willing to hear Noctis out. 

It was times like these he could appreciate how slow to anger Gladio was.

“You, uh, you’ve heard the news stories about the Silver Thief, right?” he asked, tentatively as he hopped off the sidewalk curb to cross the street.

Gladio stopped mid-stride, uncaring as Noctis smacked into his broad back and turned on the prince. “ _ Shit,  _ Noctis!”

“Hear me out!” he said, frantic, “He’s a good person!”

Gladio scrubbed a hand over his face and thrust his fingers into his hair, frustrated. “I get that. I’ve  _ seen  _ it! But,  _ fuck _ . How the hell’d you get mixed up in all of this?”

Noctis sighed through his nose, and rolled his shoulders in a shrug. “It’s uh … It’s complicated.”

Gladio snorted. “No shit. Well, get talking, you little pain in the ass,” he said as he turned and practically dragged Noctis to the car. “You’re gonna tell me the whole damn story so I can figure out what the hell to do about Drautos. And  _ don’t  _ leave out the part about why you’re making those  _ eyes _ at the guy all the time.” 

Gladio got into the driver’s seat while Noctis hopped into the passenger’s side, sinking down into his chair low enough that the shoulder strap bumped his chin. “I don’t make  _ eyes _ .”

“Bullshit. I just gave a  _ speech _ to the guy about how much you care about him, so don’t make me sound like a jackass. Hell, I  _ shipped _ you!”

At that, Noctis straightened, indignant. “Don’t turn my personal life into one of your romance novels!”

He grunted as he shoved the keys into the ignition. “Not my fault you make it so easy. But,” he sighed, “Drautos. What’s he want with him?”

“I’m not sure. I might have an idea but … we  _ are _ doing something?”

“Yeah, I guess. Your friend deserves jail time though, Noct. Laws don’t just bend around people, even friends of the prince, but even I think deploying Drautos is excessive. Not to mention that it doesn't follow the chain of command. Seems fishy.”

 

* * *

 

<< You’ll let me know if everything is okay?

 

Prompto shook his head at the notification, thinking that he should have been annoyed with the prince’s new found … clinginess? No. Attentiveness? No. Well, whatever you called it, he liked it, when he thought about it. He had missed Noctis too - his company and his earnestness - so much so that he was probably allowing him too much influence in his life. 

Nicodemus would have called him stupid another hundred times if he’d seen that entire exchange. He still felt badly about how he’d reacted to Noctis’ gift, and though his reasoning had been sound, he felt his run in with Glauca just before was partly to blame for how explosively upset he’d initially been.

The guy’d gotten under his skin, and now he was in his head, and Prompto wanted to make sure that whatever information he thought he had on him was gone. Destroyed. He didn’t want to hear about any more of this robot shit, or the suggestion that his actions might not be his own, reliant on some stupid algorithm. He was a  _ person _ , dammit, and hopefully once he found out exactly what edge Glauca thought he had on him, he could put all this creepy bullshit behind him and get on with his life.

 

>> I will. By the time the sun comes up

 

He texted back and made sure the device was silent, then pulled up the hood of his jacket to obscure his face as he leaned out to check for guards. Two at the far end of the compound, just like they’d been the night he’d broken into the memorial, but tonight he was aiming for a fatter target. 

Crownsguard Command housed most, if not all, of Lucis’ data on the Empire. It was here that Prompto hoped he’d find more information about this Glauca dude, and be able to prepare himself for another encounter with him. As much as Prompto wished he’d just be left alone, he got the distinct feeling he’d be seeing that creep again, and he wanted to be armed, effectively, to deal with that situation when it arose. 

He wasn’t about to be a victim.

Waiting until he saw an opening, Prompto slid out of his hiding place and padded silently along the dark shadow cast by the gate. It was the same route he’d taken the night he’d been caught. Daylight visiting hours had provided cover for him before, but this time he had to get clever. He crouched down low, hunkering into the shadows while the guards took their patrol in his direction. As they came close he sucked in a breath to avoid detection and waited until the stopped, looked around, and then turned back the way they had come. 

Silently, Prompto surged forward, stalking the pair just feet behind them until they met with a huge, obnoxiously manicured flower planter that ran the length of ground between the memorial and Crownsguard Command. At that point he broke away, seeking cover against the concrete base of the planter, and followed it until he was at the base of the Command’s front steps. 

He paused for a moment, taking in the building, its height, how many windows were lit, and the officers coming and going just beyond the width of the flower bed. Prompto had anticipated that it would be a busy place, so he’d come up with a plan he thought might buy him time to sneak in - for about thirty minutes or so.

It should be enough time, he thought. It would have to be.

He waited on the balls of his feet until he spotted a decent target. A young man, about Prompto’s height and build, was approaching the building from the same side where he was hidden against the planter. He looked oblivious enough, too tired or too green to keep a keen eye on his surroundings, so Prompto struck.

Knowing he’d never be a match for a member of the Crownsguard one on one, he needed the advantage of surprise, so he came up from behind and wrapped both arms  _ tightly _ around the man’s neck. He struggled, obviously, and dropped to the ground to try and knock Prompto off of him. He’d even managed to pry one of Prompto’s arms loose, but by then he was losing oxygen, his grip weakening, and Prompto thanked whatever was out there in the cosmos that no one had heard the struggle, or happened to come up on him during the time it’d taken the man to finally pass out. 

Once he’d stilled, Prompto quickly released him and heard the huge shuddering of his lungs signaling that he was still alive. But he had to be quick about this, because the man wouldn’t be out for long, and once he came to he was going to, understandably, wig out and put everyone on high alert. 

“Sorry,” he apologized quietly, before making short work of the man’s uniform.

In just a few minutes he was wearing the man’s fatigues and walking through the front door of Command, purposefully, as if there was nothing in the world he was hiding. It was kind of funny, actually, how no one paid him any attention when he took the steps up to the office level, or when he’d hesitated at a hallway intersection and made a split second decision about which path to travel down. 

Now he was walking quickly down the hallway, scanning for names on the doors he thought he would recognize. He’d researched a bit beforehand, of course, and knew enough about the Crownsguard hierarchy to understand that he should be looking for Cor Leonis’ office. The same no nonsense guy who was a little too sharp for Prompto’s liking back when he’d taken the cat-rabbit from Noctis. 

Hopefully he wouldn’t mind too much if someone broke into his office. Number 208.

He’d just spotted the beginning of the 200s when a sound blared through the building’s speakers, followed by a prim, yet authoritative voice indicating that there had been a security breach outside.

That would probably mean they found the guy.

Rushing, Prompto found the office, and tried the door. Surprisingly, it was open, and he stepped through without thinking to shut it behind him. Inside was dark but for the bright blue light of a computer monitor set on top of a huge, wooden, pristine desk. It was there Prompto began his search, since everyone kept everything on their computers these days.

He wiggled the mouse to boot the screensaver, and was surprised again when he found the desktop, and not a password locked screen, shining back at him. Thinking it strange, but not strange enough to second guess himself, he began to open documents - as many as seemed relevant to Niflheim or anyone named Glauca. 

A few looked like they were reports, addressed to a Titus Drautos, talking about Kingsglaive movements in Leide, Cleigne, and Duscae. As he searched, he began expanding into files that held information on Magitek technology, specifically Magitek Infantry. Prompto scanned these quickly, eyes lingering on words like  _ inhuman, daemon,  _ and  _ Verstael _ . Within a subfolder detailing the origins of the Magitek units is where he found what he had been looking for.

Well, not information about Glauca, who was supposed to be some big shot general according to one of the field reports, but about himself.

Leaning forward on the desk, he scrolled down the document, slowly sitting in the office chair.

“ _ Oh shit _ ,” Prompto breathed, a warble to his voice. He clapped a hand over his mouth as he let out another small cry. “ _ This is- _ ”

“Fascinating?”

Prompto turned and shot out of the chair so quickly it crashed into a nearby file cabinet. At the door was Glauca,  _ Glauca again at Crownsguard Command _ , and he was  _ smiling _ at Prompto. All teeth with a coldness in his eyes that sent a shiver down his spine.

He didn’t wait to move, too frightened by what he’d read and the meaning behind Glauca’s presence within a Crownsguard building to stick around and demand answers. But before he could so much as round the desk toward the windows at the opposite end of the office, he was caught around the neck, lifted up by the collar of his sweatshirt and peering into the coldest, gaze of any human being he’d ever met.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Glauca practically  _ crooned _ . “Rushing off so soon? But you haven’t even gotten to the good part yet.”

“Fuck you!” Prompto grunted, trying to keep himself from choking on the neckline of his shirt. “I’ll tell everyone who you are! There won’t be a person in Insomnia who will let you live after everything you’ve done!”

Glauca laughed. “I’m going to let you go, am I?” His grip on Prompto’s collar tightened. “Sorry, but you’re mine now, MT, and I’m going to fix you so that you’ll do  _ exactly _ what the Empire intended.”

Prompto cried out, slipping out of his sweatshirt and dropping to the floor to make another break for it. This time Glauca caught him around the throat and slung him on top of the desk with so much force Prompto  _ swore _ he saw spots. He was pinned by his throat, held in place by Glauca’s insane strength, and looked up into the eyes of a killer. 

“You can’t make me kill him,” he croaked. “You can’t!”

Glauca tsked, and shook his head ruefully. “It isn’t about what you want anymore, MT. You were built for one thing, and one thing only, and with you, we’re going to  _ win  _ this war.”

Glauca’s fingers flexed around his neck tightly, and something  _ popped _ in a not quite right way. Prompto didn’t feel any pain, at least not until Glauca spoke again.

“Ah, there’s the killswitch. Just like the manual said.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cor is sassy, Noctis is pissed, and Prompto is ... offline.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Hope you enjoy this chapter. Warnings from the last one should be carried over here.  
> I'd also like to apologize for the awkward balance of perspectives here. I had some major challenges getting this chapter out of my brain and onto my computer and I just. cannot. look at it anymore. :P Please forgive.

Cor Leonis leaned against the doorjamb of his office and frowned across the hall at office 203. It was a damn mess today, not that he frequented his office very often, but considering the office’s occupant - straightlaced, secretive Drautos, he was suspicious. In fact, if he were a betting man, he’d put his money on something sketchy going on in that office last night, especially given the alert he’d received about an intruder within the command offices. 

Drautos caught him staring.

“Something I can help you with, Marshal?”

His voice was breathy and even, like he was somehow put upon by Cor minding his own damn business at least ten feet away. Did that mean Drautos was on edge as well? Was he wary of being observed? He’d have to poke the bear and find out.

Straightening away from the door, Cor wandered across the hall and made a show of looking around Drautos’ office. “Spring cleaning?” he asked, though what kind of spring cleaning ended up with a broken computer monitor on the floor, he hadn’t the faintest. All of his instincts screamed at him that something was  _ wrong _ . 

Drautos made a vague gesture with his hand, indicating the mess he’d neglected to clean up. “I accidentally knocked my monitor over this morning with my duffel bag. I just haven’t had the chance to clean it up. I’m actually  _ busy _ , you know.”

Cor hummed an affirmative, scanning the rest of the room. There was a large metal closet sitting in one corner. He had one too. For officers, it was used to store extra armor and weapons. Cor’s was full, cause he wasn’t stupid enough to assume he’d never need an extra gun around with Niflheim snooping around. He wondered how full Drautos’ was. It appeared well worn, though Cor couldn’t remember there ever being dents in the damn thing. Strange that they looked remarkably flat, like they’d been made with some kind of blunt object. 

Fists, maybe? Drautos always was a little temperamental. 

“What about that cut above your eyebrow?” Cor asked. He’d seen Drautos just before shift change last night, and he hadn’t so much a as a scratch on him. The skin, when he looked closer, looked split, a bruise blooming darkly beneath it like he’d been on the receiving end of one hell of a sucker punch. 

“Training accident,” Drautos grumbled, withdrawing from the conversation.

Interesting, Cor noted. He didn’t seem much in the mood to trade barbs today, and he was usually so prepared. “Yeah? Who was it? I should go shake their hand. Maybe give them a promotion.”

“Ha. Ha.” Drautos replied, glaring up over his single working monitor at Cor. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

Cor made a show of a shrug, enjoying making Drautos squirm. “Not really. I’m waiting on Noctis and Gladio for some breakfast before I kick both of their asses in their annual. Why? Am I bothering you?”

Drautos’ glare deepened. “No, I just don’t want to look at you anymore.”

“Fine,” Cor replied. “See you.”

Drautos practically slammed his door shut on Cor’s ass, and The Marshal very nearly smiled at the obvious display of frustration. 

He was on his way to the Citadel proper when he was run down by one of his men. After he and Drautos had their dispute over the rogue MT, Cor had used his people to canvas the city using the intel they’d pirate from a less-than-careful member of the Kingsglaive. Drautos might have thought his little outfit was better than the Crownsguard just because they could use the King’s magic, but Cor had been around far longer than that asshole, and his people knew how to get information quickly, quietly, and without being caught. Sometimes it was as easy as greasing a squeaky wheel. And he’d already asked nicely once. 

So when his man had tracked him down, breathless and looking grim, he knew it had something to do with whatever Drautos had been hiding. 

“Sir, our mole in the Kingsglaive just reported in.”

Cor crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at his informant with an impatient glint in his eye. “And?”

“There’s an undocumented prisoner who showed up overnight in the isolation block. He matches the description of the kid- The, uh, MT you wanted us to gather intel on.”

“He’s been detained and no one knows about it?”

His man shook his head. “Only specific Kingsglaive members, the ones Drautos has in his pocket, knew about it before the rest of the containment staff.”

Frowning, Cor said “The MT, it goes by the name Prompto?”

His man nodded. “Prompto Argentum. Same name of the young man identified by Gladiolus Amicitia as being a friend to Prince Noctis.”

That was why Drautos was so intent on getting more information on the MT, he silently mused, dismissing his informant and climbing the steps of the Citadel by twos. His “disagreement” with Drautos had began with Cor’s concern over who the Prince had been spending time with in the slums, per Gladio’s reports. When he’d discovered the head of the Kingsglaive had known the boy was really a Niflheim magitek trooper, Cor had almost strangled the man himself.

Clearly, whatever the reasons for his secrecy, Drautos did not have Lucis’ best interests at heart, and now ti was up to Cor to get enough evidence to prove it, and it all was going to start with that MT. Prompto. Cor only regretted that he would have to involve Noctis in this, expose the prince’s friend for what he was, and bring Noctis closer to the war than he wanted to. 

 

* * *

 

Noctis sat down heavily on the reception room couch inside his family’s suite inside the Citadel, feeling his knees give out from under him as he stared up at Cor. The Marshal stood a short distance away, mouth set in a grim line while his hands were held calmly at his sides. Noctis didn’t understand how he could seem so calm, considering the news he’d just unloaded on him like a 16 kiloton bomb. 

“What the hell are you actually saying, Cor?” Noctis heard his voice speak, but he couldn’t remember actually saying the words. His entire body felt numb. His gaze shot over to Gladio, who stood rigid just behind him, and looked a little put out with the Marshal as well, though he suspected it was for a different reason. “Prompto  _ can’t _ be one of those machines.”

Cor inclined his head to acknowledge Noctis’ comment, but didn’t allow the prince to settle in denial. “According to all of the intel the Crownsguard has managed to acquire, he is.”

Gladio made a thoughtful, if irritated noise. “He walks and talks just like a person. How are people supposed to tell the difference between an MT and a regular person?”

“As far as we know,” Cor replied, “Prompto is the only magitek unit who looks like a person. That was the point of his creation. He was intended to blend in with the crowd here in the city.”

Noctis sat on the edge of his seat. He could sense that Cor wasn’t telling him something, but he was so distracted by the realization that a person he’d grown to like, to admire even, wasn’t a person at all.

Strangely, the notion didn’t seem to alter Noctis’ opinion of Prompto in the slightest. He only wanted to talk to his friend and make sure he was alright. He hadn’t done anything wrong- Well, there  _ was _ the stealing, but he hadn’t  _ harmed _ anyone. Had he? Though Prompto was willing to steal priceless artifacts, he held to a code that prevented him from seriously hurting anyone he came into contact with on a job. It was one of the reasons he’d been so stand-offish about the gun Noctis had gifted him.

“I’m going to try calling him again,” Noctis replied to no one in particular, upset at the news, and nervous that Prompto hadn’t contacted him the night before to let him know he was alright. He’d chalked that up to Prompto being tired after ... doing whatever it was he was doing, and just neglecting to get in touch.

Now, though, he felt it was something a bit more sinister.

Even as he took out his phone to dial Prompto’s number, Cor cleared his throat. “I don’t think you’ll be able to get ahold of him. The other reason I called you here, your friend had a run in with Drautos - allegedly.”

At that, both Gladio and Noctis shared a  _ look _ that Cor seemed to key in on immediately. “What do you two know?” He demanded. 

“We saw Drautos down in the slums yesterday when Noct was visiting. He was talking to Prompto - seemed to scare the shit out of him too. Kid was nervous for the rest of the day,” Gladio replied.

Noctis chimed in next. “We thought it had to do with the thefts. We couldn’t figure out why Drautos himself would track Prompto down for something out of his jurisdiction. He’s okay, isn’t he?” Noctis could hear the desperation in his own voice, and would have felt embarrassed if he wasn’t so concerned for his friend.

Thankfully, Cor seemed to ignore that. “I don’t know what kind of shape he’s in. But I do know he’s being detained.”

“Where?” Noctis demanded. “I want to see him.”

“Drautos doesn’t know that  _ I _ know he has Prompto,” Cor revealed. “In fact, he’s trying to keep Prompto’s capture a secret.”

Gladio frowned. “But why? Prompto’s done plenty of illegal shit. It’s not like he’s be unlawfully tossed in there.”

Cor shook his head, speaking carefully and quietly in front of two people he’d known and protected since they had been infants. “I don’t think Drautos can be trusted.” At Gladio’s perplexed expression, his voice grew firmer with the conviction that his hunch was right. “Not with Lucis. Prompto might be an MT, but I don’t believe he’s the real threat from Niflheim.”

“You think Drautos is a Niff spy?” Noctis reasoned. “Then he would know about Prompto…”

“We’ll only know if we get to talk to Prompto,” Cor replied. “All I’m working on is a handful of reports Monica and her team have been sending up the chain about Drautos’ activities lately. But,” he said slowly, “I don’t think Prompto is involved. He has the potential to be dangerous, but I haven’t been able to uncover any evidence that he’s an immediate threat to you, your father, or Insomnia. Drautos, however, with the things he knows …”

“Things could get really bad really fast, you mean,” Gladio finished, and Cor nodded an affirmative.

Noctis stood up quickly from the couch. “Then let’s go get Prompto.”

Cor immediately tried to contain the prince. “No, absolutely not. If you try to get him out, our element of surprise is worthless. We need to bide our time and-”

“You just said yourself that we’ll only know more about whether or not Drautos is a security threat if we talk to Prompto.” Noctis frowned, angry. “The only way I see to do that is to go and  _ get _ Prompto.”

“How are you going to do that without alerting Drautos we’re onto him? He’ll go to ground and we’ll lose him if you’re not careful.”

Noctis floundered for a moment, wracking his brain for a solution. A moment later, he smiled as it dawned on him. “We’ll steal him.”

Gladio snorted. “Did you not sleep enough last night?”

He shot Gladio a dirty look before appealing to Cor. “We need to talk to Prompto, but Drautos can’t know we have him, right? So, we steal him. Someone in the Crownsguard will be able to deal with Glaive security, then we can get in and get out without Drautos knowing what happened.”

“Noct,” Gladio began, “I know you like Prompto, but he’s just a machine. It’s not worth-.”

“He’s my  _ friend _ ,” Noctis ground out. “And if you’re not going to help me, I’ll figure out a way to do this myself.”

Scrubbing a hand over his face in defeat, Gladio sighed. “Aw, hell.”

“I’ll talk to Monica,” Cor said. “Just don’t do anything before she puts a plan together, alright?”

“I’m not going to let him spend another night alone in a cell.”

Gladio tried again. “Noct, he’s a-”

“A robot, I know! Just-,” he waved his hands, frustrated and trying to focus on the task in front of him rather than … everything else. “Let’s just get him out as quickly as we can.”

 

* * *

 

Drautos had dismissed the Glaive when he arrived at the holding facility. He thought it laughably convenient that the Kingsglaive had their own level of holding cells for alternate security purposes. It made keeping secrets like his little MT fairly easy. He couldn’t keep a secret from his Glaive, of course, but his people could be trusted not to talk about anything they’d seen here. 

He approached the holding cell. Seeing no movement inside, not that he was expecting any, he unlocked the door and let himself in, fingering the tiny computer chip pinched between his thumb and fore finger. The MT was angled against the wall, unnaturally so, it’s head and neck slumped lifelessly forward while its unseeing eyes stared at the wall. The effect was unnerving, largely because the thing looked like a dead boy that he knew could snap back to life with a flick of a switch. 

Uncaring of the manner in which he handled the thing, he yanked its head away from the wall and tilted it to the side. There was no resistance, just the stiff wobble of metal joints without the aid of an electric current to move them. Normally there would be an unending power supply harnessed from the energy of daemons, but this model was special. He’d learned in his research that this particular unit relied on a infrared solar charge, keeping it up and running even in closed buildings and at night. So long as solar radiation was present, it could work, and the battery could last anywhere from ten to fifteen years. 

It was as remarkable as it was unsettling. 

The unit thumped back onto the concrete floor, and Drautos knelt over it, fingers pressing against its arms for the plug in he was searching for. He found it beneath one of the things armbands, well hidden next to the barcode etched into its convincing skin. 

The waterproof cover for the plug moved aside easily when he slip the chip he carried inside, and almost immediately the thing jolted, woken partially from its sleep setting to either receive or impart data onto the chip. Drautos used his phone to enter the commands through the chip, and began to download all of the data the unit had created during its time in Insomnia. It was Drautos’ trade for use of the system for its original directive - to eradicate the Prince of Lucis.

In no time he’d received the information he’d been looking for. It was so simple, he thought. While absolutely insane, Verstael was a certifiable genius. 

Before disconnecting from the MT and removing the chip, Drautos thought it best to wipe the unit clean of any leftover data. He didn’t need the unit’s memories of its life in Insomnia complicating the next part of his plan.

 

 

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto's lost and found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO SORRY for not updating this regularly like I should have been. Thanks to everyone who has been hounding me for an update to this. I finally managed to find time between evaluations this year to bang this chapter out. Also, I know this is way shorter than normal, but that's all I can manage at the moment.  
> I promise, more coming soon!  
> Please enjoy!

“You’re going to have to play this by ear,” Monica said calmly, though her expression looked like it was stuck between grudging respect and panic. “It’s unclear what kind of measures Drautos has taken so secure and conceal his dealings with the Empire. Though, from what we know about his work for us, I imagine it’s quite thorough.”

Noctis couldn’t exactly blame her. She was allowing him, the prince, to take part in something inherently risky and normally left up to the Crownsguard. But for obvious reasons, he needed to take part in this. The longer Prompto spent in that cell, the longer Noctis knew he was at risk of Drautos or one of his cronies doing something … horrible. He didn’t want to spend too much time thinking about it - he just wanted to get in and get it done. Yesterday.

Except before he could break into that damn prison and bust out his friend he had to sit down and pay attention to the particulars Monica had to share with him. Gladio also preempted any of Noct’s spacing out with a couple necessary thumps to the back of his head and a gruff ‘pay attention’.

“We’re going in through this passage here,” Cor added, tapping a forefinger against the map spread out on the conference table in front of them.

“The sewer?” Gladio rumbled. 

Cor nodded. “Starting in the slums. We’ve been using that path regularly, so we know it’s secure. If we try to get into the system from the Citadel, or anywhere on grounds, we run the risk of encountering any surprise guards Drautos has set up.”

“Alright, let’s go then.” Noctis pushed away from the wall he had been leaning on, breathing out a heavy, impatient sigh. He just wanted to get  _ going _ . Prompto needed saving, damn it.

“Easy there, princess,” Gladio stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “We’re all going together. No running off ahead of us and getting your ass in a cell too.” He paused. “Or worse. Don’t think it’d be beneath Drautos, or what we know of him at least, to kill you outright.”

“That’s right,” Cor agreed. “We need to be careful. Speaking of which, we need a place to keep Prompto once we get him out. His place is being watched, and if he stays on grounds we run the risk of Drautos trying a counterattack.”

Noctis had to think about that for a moment. “Iggy’s place. His apartment is far enough away from the Citadel, right?”

“Doesn’t he normally stay here, though?” Cor asked, to which Gladio nodded. 

“Only when his highness needs a kick in the ass. I’m sure he’d be willing to open up his place to us if we explain what’s going on.”

“I’ll call and ask,” Noctis offered, but was shushed again by Gladio. 

“ _ I’ll _ ask. He’s gonna need a direct explanation, and you have too many ants in your pants to think straight right now.”

“My thinking is just fine!” Noctis stuck out his lower lip in a pout, even if he knew his impatience was practically beaming from his body like a searchlight in Leide. Could anyone blame him? 

With a sigh, he slumped back against the wall, listening to Gladio making his phone call while Cor tried to needle more information out of him about Prompto.

It was strange, he thought, to know and understand the risk his country was being placed in with this chain of events, and yet only be concerned for the welfare of his friend. What kind of prince did that make him? Even after all his time working with the people that needed him, coming to understand their concerns, was it true to label him completely selfish for wanting to risk it all to save someone important to him?

“Hey”

Noctis looked up to find Cor watching him with that same serious expression he always wore, the sharpness to his gaze feeling as though it was seeing right through him.

“We’ll do this, Noctis,” Cor stated evenly, the tone of his voice not betraying a warmth or affection for the prince, but maintaining a straightforward air. “We’ll get Prompto out, and in the  _ right _ hands. Can’t say I approve of his work, but we need his skills and expertise to help us counter whatever Drautos is planning.”

“Skills and-? You mean you’re going to use Prompto to get back at Niflheim?” Noctis questioned, his brow furrowing in confusion. 

“You think we can trust him?”

Noctis heard Gladio’s voice rumble on the far side of the room as his call connected to Ignis. He was distracted by it for a moment, watching his friend wanted back and forth, pacing, as he spoke to Ignis in a soft, quiet tone that Noctis had only ever heard him use a handful of times - normally around Iris.

“Well, yeah,” Noctis replied slowly, beginning to frame Cor’s words in his head as the big picture slowly came into focus.

“Then I’m going to do you both a favor. I’ll overlook his activities, since they were ultimately beneficial to our neediest citizens anyway, but only if he agrees to work for the Crownsguard. He’s a valuable talent, and not only that, it would demonstrate his loyalty to the Crown if he were to make a choice in full view of the Crownsguard and your father.”

Noctis shifted his weight from one foot to the other, nervous. “You mean you’d drop everything?”

Cor only nodded, pinning Noctis again with that evaluative gaze of his. 

“But Prompto really dislikes the Crown. He’s always talking about how the political system does nothing for those who have the most need of it. I- I don’t think he’d choose to help us - at least not that way.”

“Then that’s his choice. I need him out of Drautos’ hands,” Cor reasoned. “He can do that by being in direct opposition to Niflheim, or he can do it in prison. I honestly don’t mind either way.”

Noctis felt his chest tighten with a different kind of worry this time. “Right…”

Gladio’s large presence meandered back over to Noctis. “We’re good. Iggy’s place is ours tonight. We gettin’ a move on, or what?”

 

* * *

 

 

“Ugh, this is disgusting!”

“Pipe down! You’re voice is carrying down the damn sewer.”

“You  _ both _ need to shut up.” Cor growled. His voice was so low that Noctis and Gladio, the arguing parties, had to strain to hear him over the echoes of their own voices. “Come on. We’re hanging a right.”

Noctis fell into place between Cor and Gladio, the place they’d decided was safest for him in case of an ambush or a run in with some local fauna. From there he couldn’t do much but stick close to Cor and keep quiet. The journey, for the most part, was actually pretty uneventful, and Noctis was beginning to believe that they wouldn’t run into any hostile parties until they rounded a corner and Cor immediately shoved him back.

Biting back an indignant squeak, Noctis was caught against Gladio who stood him back upright while Cor gesture to him. Two finger up in the air, pointing around the corner that they were supposed to have taken to get them beneath the Citadel grounds. 

“Kingsglaive,” Gladio whispered to Noctis. “Just the one.”

“He looks like he’s patrolling just this section of the tunnel,” Cor hummed, barely leaning out to catch a glimpse of their target. “Doesn’t look like we’re going to be able to sneak past him either, he’s coming this way.”

“Ambush?” Noctis asked. “I can warp to him before he has a clue what’s going on.”

Cor nodded. “I’ll be right behind you. Gladio?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Gladio cracked his neck from side to side, rolling his shoulders. “I’ll be the knockout punch.”

There was a split second, Noctis had worried, in which he thought the Kingsglaive had heard him warp. Mid-strike, he’d tensed, preparing himself for a counter to come through the void. But he was just fast enough that no resistance came. Noctis had succeeded in dropping the man to the harsh grating beneath his feet, and not a second later Cor appeared beside him using an unsheathed blade to drive into the man’s gut. Gladio’s follow up was simple. He pulled from the crystal’s magic to warp as well, popping into existence to cut off the Kingsglaive’s call for help by severing his head from his shoulders.

One, two, three. They’d taken out one magic-wielding sentinel with relative ease, bringing them one step closer to their goal. Their success perhaps making Noctis overconfident, he turned away from the fallen Kingsglaive and hurried forward, not minding Cor’s grunt of frustration as he ran to catch up.

Noctis’ rush of optimism quickly faded, however. The farther they got into the sewer system beneath the Citadel, the more Kingsglaive they encountered. Security was surprisingly tight, and by the time they arrived at an odd, skewed-looking grate over another section of tunnel, Noct’s stamina was starting to flag.

“How long have we been down here?” he asked, slumping against the grimy wall while Gladio used his height to reach up and pop the grate out of place.

“Going on two hours. We’re ahead of schedule, though. Drautos should have just left for his rounds along the Wall. We have plenty of time to subdue whatever resistance we find in this section of the prison, get Prompto out, and be on our way by the time he gets off-shift,” Cor explained.

“Assuming he’s following the schedule, at this point,” Gladio grunted, lifting the solid piece of metal and setting it gently aside as to avoid making any unnecessary noise.

“He will,” Cor spoke with an assuredness that invited little doubt. “He will do anything to avoid throwing suspicion his way, at least until he believes all of his pawns are in place.”

“You don’t think he does, now that he has Prompto?” Noctis asked.

“No. Drautos and I are alike in many ways. We both like to be over-prepared before making a move on our enemy.”

 

* * *

 

When Noctis found Prompto’s cell he had to force himself to move from the threshold. Gladio’d taken the key off of one of the guards they’d managed to subdue, leaving the iron-barred portal wide open to rush in and drag his friend out of this dim, awful place. But something was  _ not _ right here.

Prompto was too still, unnaturally so, curled against the concrete wall of the cell with his forehead touching his knees. His arms hung back toward his feet, which he was kneeling on, limp and almost boneless looking. And maybe the worst of the entire macabre setting was the sightless, bleak, look in his friend’s blue eyes as they stared directly at him, but also through him. 

“Shit,” Gladio offered, hovering next to Noctis. 

Cor had gone off to take care of any others who might have been lurking on this level of the prison, leaving Gladio and Noctis to find and extract Prompto from his cell. 

“Prompto?” Noctis asked, tentatively taking a step into the cell, scuffing up a layer of dust as he did. Nervous, Noctis looked back toward Gladio. “You don’t think he’s-?”

“Robot, remember?” Gladio offered, though he seemed unsure himself. “He probably can’t. Maybe there’s a button somewhere? A switch?”

“Oh.” Noctis looked back toward his friend and chewed on his lower lip. “Right.” It was an awkward feeling to approach a person, once full of vibrancy and life and conviction, and see them entirely  _ void _ of emotion and expression. It was worse still when Noctis reached out to touch his friend and found his body cold - frigid. He never remembered Prompto feeling anything but comfortably warm before - not that he had made a habit of touching his friend. 

“Hey,” he spoke again, crouching down on his knees. “Prompto?” Still no reaction. “Alright, well, sorry if I’m touching you without your permission but….maybe Gladio’s right and there is a … switch somewhere.”

Even saying that aloud caused a lump to form in Noctis’ throat. He’d mostly come to terms with the idea that his friend was not a living human. That being said, Noctis had grown to like Prompto regardless of his origin. He didn’t  _ think _ of his friend in terms of being human or not - only that he enjoyed spending time with him and that Prompto was a  _ good _ person. This entire ordeal felt way too much like he was handling a dead body, and the discomfort of that notion persisted as Noctis ran his hands over his friend’s expressionless body searching for  _ anything _ that would bring him back to the way he  _ was _ . 

He muttered apologies under his breath, fingers drifting over lean muscle and beneath the hems of his friend’s clothes. “You have any idea where a button might be?” Noctis asked Gladio over his shoulder, his movements growing more rushed, more frantic as time wore on with no success.

“No clue. Maybe think about it like a scifi movie, though? Where do robots usually have power switches in those things?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a scifi movie that has a robot with a power switch,” Noctis groaned. “Maybe we should just try and carry him out of here? I’m not getting anywhere.” Frustrated, he clapped his hand against the back of Prompto’s neck and felt something give.

In a second, Prompto’s body burst into action, joints righting themselves to their appropriate positions and skin flushing back to a semblance of life, eyes flashing once again with a  _ presence _ that Noctis felt was absolutely  _ not _ artificial. Prompto was  _ in there _ . He knew it. 

Noctis rushed to stand with his friend, confused when Prompto didn’t immediately turn to look at him. “Prompto? Hey! We gotta get out of here before Drautos comes back.”

Prompto’s head swiveled awkwardly toward him, observing him with interest, though the prince could not see any recognition there. “This unit is ready for identification.”

“Aw, shit. This isn’t good,” Gladio sighed, running his hands through his hair. “What’re we gonna do?”

Prompto’s gaze turned toward Gladio. “This identification tag is too long. Please select another.”

“Prompto!” Noctis cut in, brows drawn together with worry. Your name is Prompto.”

“Identification tag accepted. My name is Prompto.”

Noctis bit into his lower lip again, feeling his eyes burn, his vision swimming. What had Drautos done to him? This wasn’t Prompto. This wasn’t anything like him. What had that bastard done to his friend?

Noctis was trying to keep it together. “Prompto, do you know who I am?”

Those blue eyes regarded him again. “You are Noctis Lucis Caelum, Crown Prince of Lucis and the only child of King Regis Lucis Caelum.”

Noctis balled his hands into fists at his sides. “Do you know what you are doing here?”

“That information is classified.”

Gladio swore under his breath. 

“Yeah,” Noctis’ voice warbled. “This is bad.”

 


End file.
